Freedom Day
by Cyndi
Summary: Groot and Rocket are friends who have each others' backs and take care of each other no matter what. Now what are they celebrating and why are they celebrating? (Autistic!Groot)


Author's note: So here's some more autistic!Groot. It's time to break the myth that nonverbal autistic people who need lots of support are incapable of forming close relationships. I don't pretend I speak for all autistic people, but I hope these fics kill some of the stigma around autism, mental illnesses, neurological disorders and neurodivergence in general.

Secondary note: I am aware that baby Groot in GOTG 2 doesn't have the memories of the first Groot. That information wasn't out yet when I started these fics, so in my stories it's still the same Groot and all he had to do was grow up again. These fics are mostly headcanon anyway, so I intend to stick with what I've been doing. This story features some headcanons I have about Rocket, too.

 **WARNINGS:** Abuse mention, vomiting, feces, unsanitary situations, violence, swearing, internalized ableism, ableist language, alcohol, food, eating and adult situations.

 **TW FOR AUTISTIC READERS:** There are graphic scenes of self-injurious behavior(SIB), mentions of abusive ABA-like therapy and use of bodily restraints.

 _ **-THIS STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR GOTG 2**_ **.-**

.o

.o

 **Freedom Day**

.o

.o

" _Can't close my eyes,_  
 _they're wide awake._  
 _Every hair on my body_  
 _has got a thing for this place._  
 _Oh, empty my heart!_  
 _I've got to make room for this feeling._  
 _It's so much bigger than me_..."

-Imogen Heap, "Can't Take It In"

.o

.o

 _Four years ago_...

The cargo ship they stole from the Halfworld prison-laboratory lasted six months in space. Six months of stars, space dust, rocks and blackness outside the frontal view screens.

There was no way Rocket and Groot could eat all the stored food before the "long-lasting" perishables spoiled. The cargo hold required frequent venting because it smelled horrid. And the freezer? That blasted thing failed a month into the trip. Opening the freezer unit door became expressly forbidden due to the vile stench. Groot reminded himself by wrapping several vines over the control panel so he wouldn't be tempted to push buttons or play with the pretty purple touch screen.

Also, they were running out of fuel. Bad on top of bad on top of _bad_ luck.

Rocket had no choice but to scan for planets the cargo ship didn't deliver to or pick up from and hope they weren't hostile. Worse, he was horrifically sick from something he ate yesterday. Just another sign that their vast food supply wasn't going to be safe to eat much longer.

Rocket taught Groot how to pilot and navigate the cargo ship between bouts of throwing up in an industrial cleaning bucket. First, Groot rested his hands over Rocket's while Rocket operated the controls like he normally would. Then Rocket led him through the motions while explaining why he did them. Groot learned best when people physically guided him through the necessary movements. Being moved by an outside source drew the mental motor planning blueprints for each step and taught his brain how to tell his body what to do.

And Rocket actually _listened_ when Groot told him this.

"Keep your hands on the throttle. Nice n' steady. You've got this, Groot! Look at you, you're flying a ship! Haha! You're flying a fricken ship, Groot!" Rocket climbed off Groot's lap and grinned. "Look at yourself! You _can_ learn! Those jackasses didn't know how to teach you anything."

He sounded proud. Not surprised that Groot managed to do it correctly after a dozen repetitions. Not a put-on saccharine affect rewarding mindless compliance. No, he was genuinely _proud_ of Groot's newly attained skill because he believed he could succeed at it.

For a shining moment, Groot's elation soared. And it crashed again as if slapped aside mid-flight. Rocket went over all the switches and buttons by leading his hand to each one and explained their purpose. He ran simulations to show him what the different alarms sounded like, what their lights looked like and what he should do if those alarms came on.

Groot had the procedures memorized. It only took about twenty run-throughs. Doubt still plagued him.

Once, he heard behavior therapists on Halfworld debate whether or not he was _actually conscious_. They used _autism_ or _autistic_ to describe him and the entire Flora Colossus species. He didn't mind. The words that came with it, on the other hand? Horrible, inaccurate and soul-crushing. People who had only met him that day claimed he was...

 _Nonverbal_.  
 _Low-functioning_.  
S _evere_.  
 _Self-injurious_.  
 _Aggressive_.  
 _Throws tantrums_.  
 _Refuses to make eye contact._  
 _Engages in pointless repetitive behaviors_.  
 _Incapable of meaningful communication_.  
 _Incapable of meaningful social interaction_.  
 _Incapable of independent living_.  
 _Incompetent_.  
 _No self-awareness_.

Not one person in that room asked Groot how he experienced the world. Nobody in that room tried to understand his communications and everybody in that room blamed their failure on him. Every single person there believed they knew him better than his knew himself. They looked at him like he was nothing, spoke about him like his head contained nothing and treated him like he meant nothing. Then they scared him into mimicking their nebulous idea of normal and called it success.

What if the therapists were _right?_

What if he wasn't intelligent at all?

What if he made a mistake when _lives_ mattered?

Groot groaned at the flood of intrusive thoughts. He rocked back and forth on the tiny seat while gripping the throttle tight. Moving prevented him from trying to punch the unwanted recollections out of his brain.

"Hey, nothing to be scared of." Rocket missed the meaning behind Groot's rocking. He went on, "That awesome breakout we did? That was my first time flying. I was scared to death. No, seriously! I almost shit myself ten times and we're still here. You're fine."

Distracted, Groot asked Rocket how he knew how to pilot a ship if he never flew one before their escape.

"It got encoded into me when they advanced my brain. I guess I- hold on, gotta-"

Rocket loudly vomited in the bucket. Bile, judging by the foul smell. He moaned and curled up on the floor, trembling with fever.

This illness was getting out of hand. Rocket could barley stand up, couldn't keep anything except water down and his body temperature kept rising. One didn't need to know his species to recognize that wasn't normal.

"I am...Groot?"

"Yeah, I think so. It's in the back of the cargo hold. The crates have green diamond-shaped labels on the front. Gimme your hand." Rocket used a front claw to lightly scratch a diamond onto Groot's palm. It didn't hurt. "It looks like this."

Groot set the ship on autopilot and made his way into the medical supplies section of the cargo hold. The green labels stood out like beacons. He checked his palm anyway to ensure the shapes matched and smiled when he saw they did.

It occurred to him that he forgot to ask Rocket what medicine to get, but he wouldn't have remembered if he did. Everything had long, complicated names that he couldn't process into anything understandable. Knowing it was medicine had to be enough. He gathered one box or bottle of everything in a small crate with yellow handles and took it to the flight deck.

Rocket knew what all the long words meant, so he explained what _anti-emetics_ and _antibiotics_ were. He separated the medicines he required, gave those bottles to Groot and sent him to retrieve more.

Knowing exactly what to look for made completing the task a thousand times easier. Groot also swiped the biggest piece of clothing he saw from a crate near the food. An ugly dark gray shirt big enough to fit him, it turned out. Probably for Gunas, since they ran large.

He wrapped the shirt around Rocket and absolutely insisted he rest in a proper bed. Cargo ships were meant for long trips. This one had sleeping quarters around the corner from the flight deck.

Rocket was too dizzy from being sick to walk the short distance. Groot carried him and set him on the bunk closest to the door. He emptied the puke bucket in the adjacent bathroom. Putting water in the bottom helped eliminate the putrid odor clinging to it like a cloud.

The bunks had shiny dark green blankets. Rocket huddled under that in addition to the shirt. He was asleep by the time Groot returned.

Thinking about the foul smell in the bucket prompted Groot to go through the food in the cargo hold. Everything too spoiled for Rocket's consumption smelled like the bucket. Groot piled all the stinky stuff in a shallow rectangular crate with black telescoping handles and shoved it into a dark corner. Still-edible items found a new home in a deep square crate that had a white lid.

Rocket left a purple crate of foods and chemicals he couldn't consume near a trash chute. He didn't say why, other than they had artificial sweeteners or caffeine and too much of those did bad things to his body. Groot didn't question it- meat made him violently sick. Maybe fake sweeteners and certain stimulants did the same thing to Rocket.

Groot grabbed a canned electrolyte drink from a container he had to break to open. The box said _tastes best when served cold_. Except the cooling unit hadn't worked in ages. But wait, space was very cold! Groot eyed the silver can in his hand. What a great idea!

He opened the inner loading airlock, set the can on the floor and shut the hatch again. Whoever designed the controls was smart. The inner airlock could only be operated from the left side of the hatch while the outer one required standing on the right.

Groot excitedly patted the viewing panel and punched the key that opened the outer hatch. And then he watched the canned drink spin away into the blackness.

Oh. _That_ explained why Rocket called him nuts for suggesting they use space to keep refrigerated stuff cold.

But seeing such an interesting pressure differential was _cool!_ Groot ran around the cargo hold, grabbing trash and the big crate of rotted food and dumped everything on the airlock floor. Lots of wrappers, spoiled fruits, vegetables and packaged goods that weren't anywhere near the right color anymore created a formidable pile.

Groot backed through the inner hatch and closed it. One button press later sent all that garbage into the void. He laughed and bobbed excitedly at seeing physics in action.

Wait, didn't he come down here for something important?

Thirst reminded him of his original intention. He opened an electrolyte can and drank its contents in three huge gulps. It had a vaguely salty taste. Not pleasant at 'room' temperature, but not awful either. Then he jumped, paced around and tapped on his abdomen. No bellyache and no vomiting. His body rejected spoiled foods within minutes, so the drinks were good for consumption.

Groot returned to the sleeping area and helped Rocket sit up. He grew a thick weave of stems that formed a shallow bowl on his palm, poured the pale red liquid into it and placed his hand right under Rocket's nose. Rocket sniffed once and lapped it up.

"Gimme more of that stuff later," he mumbled, "I'll puke if I drink more."

Sighing, he closed his eyes and rubbed his elbows. His ears and whiskers drooped. He looked utterly miserable.

"I am Groot?"

Rocket laid down again under the blanket and oversized shirt. "I'm always in pain, Groot. Being sick makes it feel worse."

Groot's chest ached at the revelation. He ate the "bowl" off his hand and placed his right index finger on Rocket's left palm. His eyes welled over.

"Stop it. You're not causing this." Rocket gripped the offered fingertip tightly. "Rav and Peth were sadistic shitbags who zapped me to manipulate you because they knew you didn't like seeing me get hurt."

Rav and Peth always found something wrong in everything he did. Rocket experienced extreme pain _because of him_. Now Rocket was in pain again. Sap tears spilled down his cheeks. He grimaced and covered his eyes with his free hand.

"I **am GROOT!** _I_ _**am GROOT!**_ "

"Groot! There's nothing to be sorry for! Groot, hey. Groot. C'mon, buddy, focus on what I'm saying." Rocket tugged Groot's finger to keep his attention. "Are you listening?"

Groot nodded. He took his hand off his eyes and slapped the back of his head in attempt to regain control of his runaway emotions. It worked. The tears stopped.

"They used every excuse they had to hurt me and blame it on you. I know how hard you tried to protect me, Groot. I don't blame you for what they did. I'll never blame you for what they did."

"I- am Groot?"

Rocket squeezed Groot's fingertip and shook his head. "No. Jormin caused this pain when he put the implants in me. The screws and wiring make my bones and nerves hurt. I'm in pain because of Jormin and because I have a fever, not because of you. Okay? You got that?"

"I am... _Groot_."

"Good. Sure, go ahead."

Rocket curled up on his side. He let Groot pet him to sleep.

Groot didn't dare fall asleep himself. Rocket needed him, and he wanted to stay available at all times. Sitting would guarantee he fell asleep- it was the natural sleeping position for Flora Colossi, after all- so he paced around, studied the labels on nearby doors and laid on the floor while staring at the corrugated metal ceiling.

The anti-emetic medicine didn't work. It took over forty-eight hours for Rocket's vomiting to stop. Another twenty-four passed before the antibiotics brought his fever down. Groot kept him hydrated using the canned electrolyte drinks and got him to eat a small container of black vitamin pudding mush that tasted better than it looked. Then the fever broke and he ate his way through a can of crunchy blue Aakon roots. They were too sour for Groot's liking.

 _Sour_ stirred memories of _very bad things_.

The lack of sleep left him nearly incoherent. Long sentences made no sense, assembling visual input required immense effort and making his body move used up what little energy he could still spare. He refused to so much as close his eyes except to blink until Rocket insisted he wasn't sick anymore.

"Look, no fever. My last huge puke was yesterday morning. My appetite's back, too." Rocket gestured at himself. "I'm not sick anymore. Take care of yourself, now. Go to sleep."

Groot only needed permission. He slid down the wall at the foot of the bunk. Taproots grew off his back at the halfway point. He was asleep before he finished his descent.

.o

 _Present day_...

Groot stirred awake when something lumpy dropped into his lap. He retracted the taproots attaching him to the wall of the _Milano_ and blinked sleepily at the brown cloth. Prodding the bumpy sack hinted at what lay inside. Tugging on the string holding it shut revealed something glorious.

There had to be at least a hundred Xandarian apples in that bag! The purple fruit gleamed like jewels, except he could _eat_ them!

Groot let the joy bubbling inside him morph naturally into laughter. Xandarian apples were the first food he ate after escaping Halfworld. The genuine affection he felt from Rocket swelled behind his heart. He devoured the first apple in two huge bites, bounced excitedly where he sat and ate another. Juicy sweetness filled his mouth with happy memories of freedom.

His awkwardly splayed legs kept the apples from rolling everywhere when he poured them all out of the bag. He spent several minutes sorting them into rows according to size, then shape and finally color intensity. Creating such beautiful symmetry filled him with delight. He chirped while putting the apples gently in the bag again to keep them from bruising.

Beaming, he looked up at the roll-out bunk. Rocket groggily smiled back as he lay on his stomach clad only in a pair of gray shorts. He looked tiny surrounded by the silvery sheets. His bushy, ringed tail twitched as he yawned.

"That's part one of your present. Part two is gonna come later. Happy Freedom Day, Groot."

" _I_ _**am**_ Groot!" Groot wished his best friend the same.

He flicked open the storage compartment by the head of the bunk.

Rocket sat up in time for Groot to lay a plain metal box across his lap.

"What's this?"

"I am _Groot_ ," Groot replied, squirming in anticipation as Rocket began popping the latches holding the box shut.

Three days prior, he asked Quill to help him order this very specific item. It cost a lot of units, and it just so happened Quill was taking the _Milano_ down to Xandar for maintenance because it still wasn't acting the same since Berhert. They swung by the Broker's place to pick the order up. Groot had sneakily tucked it away in anticipation of this moment.

The lid creaked faintly. Rocket's sleepy eyes were suddenly very alert. He slammed the box shut again.

"Groot! You didn't..."

Creak went the lid again.

"...you _did_. You bastard!"

Rocket laughed, holding up the new sighting scope for his gun. He peered into the eyepiece and activated the switch on the side. "And you got the settings all customized! Groot!"

Groot devoured two more apples as Rocket hopped off the bunk to grab his gun. The old scope was on the blink and in urgent need of replacing, but Rocket didn't want any old scope. He preferred scopes with stabilization technology that prevented a shaky image and he liked being able to adjust to different digital reticles depending on the gun setting he used.

Sight wasn't Rocket's strongest sense. He saw things clearly up to a hundred feet away, then, as he said, stuff got a little blurry. The scope's lenses had to be shaped specifically to focus light properly in his eyes. But Groot knew Rocket's gun like the back of his hand because he watched Rocket build it. Rocket taught him how to take it apart, clean it and reassemble it. Knowing the gun so well let Groot repeat the specs from memory and ensure the scope arrived already set.

Rocket detached the old scope and replaced it with the new one in four swift twisting motions. It looked almost out of place since the gun needed polishing. Then he shouldered his weapon and tilted his head to peer into the eyepiece. He turned a slow circle, testing out the lasers, different forms of visual input and telescopic zoom. The metal implants protruding through the bald patch on his back gleamed under the overhead lights, a chilling reminder of what today meant.

Groot leaned forward and spread his hands.

"Yeah, works great." Rocket lowered his huge gun and propped it against the bunks. He was smiling, "What'd jackass like me do to deserve a friend like you?"

Shrugging, Groot offered Rocket an apple.

Rocket squinted. "Naw, you eat 'em. They're yours."

" _I_ _am_ Groot," Groot reminded him.

"Tch, yeah, yeah, you can do whatever you want once a present is yours, so wh-"

Groot insistently held the purple apple out to his friend until it was accepted. He chuckled at Rocket's grumbling and ventured into the kitchen area.

As expected, he found Drax there. Not expected, he found Drax sitting with his head bowed and his hands resting palms down on kitchen table. The way he stared at the tabletop gave the impression that he wanted to disintegrate it alongside Groot's chew tube and data pad.

Groot hurt himself and yelled any time his senses got overwhelmed beyond his coping abilities. His tension built visibly into nuclear explosions that were highly obvious and sometimes sudden. Anyone and everyone could see them for miles around.

Drax did the polar opposite- he became still and silent, only reacting violently out of pain if unexpectedly disturbed. His tension built invisibly into a house fire in the middle of nowhere. Nobody noticed anything amiss until a flashover caused structural collapse.

He once described this state as all of his senses heightening into distorted incomprehensibility. If he was walking when it happened, he couldn't stop unless an obstacle crossed his path. When being still, initiating movements caused bone-breaking pain.

Despite that, he said the hardest part was _losing all of his words_. Words composed everything in his world. His thoughts weren't images or sensory input, they ran through his mind like data scrolling across a screen. His brain "wrote" everything he experienced. Shutdown states turned that inner writer off, leaving him with nothing to draw on for thought or speech. He could not will his mouth to form a syllable and struggled at comprehending other people's words.

Groot thrummed, unobtrusively announcing his presence. He moved gingerly as he seated himself across from Drax, rested his forearms on the tabletop and placed his hands palms-up where they would be seen. Drax's eyes shifted towards the offering. The subtle movement indicated he wanted comfort, but couldn't reach for it. Groot slid his hands under Drax's, closed his fingers firmly around them and pumped gently. Siphoning his stress away made room for calmness to enter.

Aliens who gestated inside their progenitors tended to find comfort in rhythms that matched a heartbeat. Maybe their nervous systems remembered the safety of being in the womb in ways their brains couldn't.

Groot spared a glance at the kitchen counter behind Drax's head. An egg carton containing pale red eggs lay open beside the blender. The blender had an assortment of not yet pulverized ingredients inside. Dishes were in the sink, some still crusted with tiny bits of food.

Now the source of his shutdown became clear. Quill and Gamora must have inadvertently interrupted his breakfast routine several times in a short period.

Drax had a set method for food preparation. Everything he cleaned, cooked or mixed was done in the same order each time. Fixing up food reminded him of being near his deceased family members, and having that time disturbed made his heart hurt the same way bursting into a silent room while banging pots and pans made anyone's ears hurt. Secondly, disruptions requiring he stop his food prep muddled his ability to pick up where he left off. He had to start over from the beginning unless something only required a few more steps to finish.

Everyone knew not to touch any food Drax was washing, mixing or cooking unless he asked them to. But sometimes they forgot that he stood in specific places for each step, and having him move frequently threw him off, too. Muscle memory, he called it. No, he couldn't move a foot to the right and keep stirring or chopping from a different angle- he had to stand on _that very spot_ in order to stir without spilling or chop neatly.

People unintentionally overlooked Drax's difficulties because they rarely manifested outwardly. His descriptions of his childhood indicated he had external similarities to Groot. He didn't speak until he was nine years old. The muscles for speech ignored his brain completely, yet he understood everything people said. Words had always run through his mind. Then, one summer day, the parts used for speech obeyed his brain and he said a complete sentence like he spoke all his life. From then on, he could talk. His methods for coping with his environment evolved as he aged, but his sensory processing issues, how he engaged in social interactions and his learning patterns remained the same. He never grew _out_ of his neurology; he grew _into and with_ it!

Groot and Drax did not occupy opposite ends of this thing aliens called the _autism spectrum_. They were positioned all over it like light beams shining into two diffraction gratings on a spectroscope, and the only difference was the distribution of their spectral lines.

Groot's spiraling thoughts dispelled when he noticed Drax's hands squeezing in response to being squeezed. The reaction grew stronger until their speed and pressure matched. He was absorbing the calmness.

"I feel much improved." Drax drew in a deep breath. Just like that, the words composing his thoughts returned and his voice worked again. He lifted his head, a statue come to life. "Thank you, my friend."

Though he didn't smile, the genuine warmth in his gratitude reached Groot anyway.

Drax got up and headed towards the blender. The colorful fruits and vegetables in it got dumped out on the countertop, arranged in order, washed under the sink faucet and meticulously placed back inside. He cracked two eggs over the blender before carefully discarding the shells in the trash chute under the sink.

"Groot, can you be of assistance? I require the seedless yellow grapes from the cooling unit."

Groot delighted in helping Drax around the kitchen. He opened the refrigeration drawer. All edibles containing artificial sweeteners or caffeine as ingredients were kept to the right of a red divider. On top of it, a piece of white tape with ' _Not for Rocket'_ written in Xandarian. Rocket's handwriting. Likewise, a cabinet directly above the refrigeration unit- and out of Rocket's immediate reach- housed non-refrigerated snacks, toppings or condiments deemed 'not Rocket safe'. Rocket called it a _need to know_ basis and swore Groot to secrecy. Though Groot didn't agree with Rocket's reasoning, he respected his request.

He looked straight down at the clear baggie of shiny yellow grapes, grasped the first thing his fingertips touched and picked it up. Then he beamed proudly and held out the squishy object in his grasp. A brown Sneeper squash. Definitely _not_ grapes.

Drax chuckled at that. "Grapes, not squash."

Groot put the squash back into the refrigeration drawer. His hand grabbed the wrong food three more times before he finally got the grapes. Sometimes he looked at the correct object, sent his body the command to pick it up and his hands picked up whatever they touched first instead of following his gaze.

Fortunately, Drax proved _extremely_ patient about scenarios such as this. The others, even Rocket, often reached in to grab what they wanted. Groot rarely minded- sometimes it frustrated him, too.

Drax ate two grapes and Groot helped him pluck the rest off the stalk. They plopped satisfyingly into the blender container. One bounced off the rim and thumped softly onto the floor. Groot stomped on it to prevent it from rolling away. He lifted his foot to find a very flat grape and his eyes widened. Drax frowned at the tiny splatter. He ducked his head, his nostrils flaring from the effort of holding in inappropriate laughter. Groot wasn't so successful. His attempt to conceal a guffaw resulted in a sound similar to flatulence.

Now Drax lost it completely. Like Groot, he thought farts and similar noises were hilarious. They both laughed so hard they could barely stand up. Groot playfully swatted at Drax's bald head and their carrying on lasted a good few minutes.

Once calm, Drax wiped the floor clean and gestured at the blender. "I will activate this now. Cover your ears."

The warning let Groot clap both hands over his ears and flee to the other side of the room while the device ran. Quill's blender wasn't particularly loud, however it emitted a high pitched whine that pounded his head like ice picks. Everyone knew to warn him before turning it on.

Drax switched the blender off, picked up the container and drank the pulverized dark green contents. He brought it to Groot after he consumed half. Groot gently refused by pushing it back towards him. Eggs, like meat, never agreed with him. Drax arched a brow in acknowledgement and finished the smoothie off himself. He made up for it by offering a tall glass of water instead, which Groot gratefully accepted.

"What is Freedom Day?"

A smile lit Groot's face while he put his used glass in the sink. He sat at the kitchen table and tapped all four corners of his data pad to bring it online. Selecting the rainbow infinity symbol activated the text-to-speech program. He rested his left index finger on the screen. It took a moment for him to translate his sensory thoughts into useful words. His fingertip traced slow patterns across the Xandarian character keys. Applying more pressure counted as a tap and the characters he selected lit up white.

Groot's typing was not a fast process; it required patience from both him and a listener. Word prediction software helped speed things along. He finished spelling his thoughts and touched the green arrow twice. An emotionless robotic voice spoke the words, which forced people to look at his expression to make up for the lack of tone variation.

 **Freedoms Days is the anniversary for me and Rocket escapes Halfworld. The escapes process takes lots of months but we celebrates the days we lands on a planets after we escapes the prisons-labs because it changes our life.**

Drax's expression brightened a little. "How many years are you celebrating?"

Groot looked at both hands, counted carefully by curling each digit as he went until he had the right number. He held up four fingers.

At that, Drax's expression flinched. "I first met Hovat six years ago today."

Blinking, Groot felt an ache in his throat as if he experienced the grief himself. He typed, **What was her favorites colors?**

Questions like that sometimes struck people as odd or unrelated to the subject at hand. Not so for Drax. He cleared his throat and replied, "She was fond of red."

Groot turned his right hand palm-up and grew a red lotus-like flower with spiky claret petals and a yellow center. It almost resembled a flame when it spiraled open beneath the overhead lights.

Sacrificing himself on the Dark Aster let him experience an existence beautiful beyond imagining. The memory consumed his mind like the universe's infinite vastness. A place with no form and endless, euphoric peace. Such a flower could only capture a fraction of that, but he hoped it offered Drax a copacetic glimpse of where his family went.

Drax's eyes watered until he blinked. Then he smiled through his sadness, his mind no doubt recounting the moment he met his wife, and gently picked the flower by its stem.

A verbal thank you wasn't necessary- Groot felt it when he watched his friend cradle the blossom on his grayish-blue palm while filling a shallow white bowl with water. The flower floated on top as if weightless. He set the bowl in the center of the stark metal kitchen table.

Groot glanced around. **Where are Quill and Gamora?**

"I, uh, was told to not inform you of their whereabouts for any reason," said Drax. He checked the blender container and tipped it over his mouth again to finish off the last bit. "How do you celebrate this anniversary?"

The toilet flushed and the bathroom door squeaked open.

"We give each other presents and then we go tear up whatever town we're next to," Rocket said when he padded into the kitchen. The buckles on his dark blue clothing were still mostly undone. He fixed them before he rummaged in the refrigeration drawer and tore into a cold spicy sausage. "Freedom Day is all about havin' fun. Right, Groot?"

" **I** am Groot? I am _**Groot!**_ "

"Hah! I ain't gonna hotwire a hover car this time. I put in a call for a rental. If we end up arrested again this year, I don't want it to be for any major charges."

Groot snickered at Drax's confused expression. He typed, **Rocket steals a hover cars on Contraxia lasts times and we makes the vehicles owners chases us around the wholes planets before we runs out of fuels! We gets arrests and spends the nights in a cells, but Rocket breaks us out and we goes to Sagevsal and has more fun.**

"Groot was driving the hover car," Rocket lied.

Groot grinned and spelled out something he heard Quill say.

 **Liars, liars, pants on fires.**

"Lying does not cause your clothes to spontaneously combust," Drax pointed out. He still glanced at Rocket as if making sure. "Now you will have to excuse me, I must join Gamora and Quill. I looked at the mock-up you gave me. Bamboo wind chimes would be a great addition to the-"

Rocket cut him off, "Dude! Shut up!"

"Uhh, oops." Drax closed his mouth as if physically holding in a secret and self-consciously shuffled his feet. "Groot, forget what I almost said. It isn't important. Rocket, you do not need to move on my account."

He planted his hand atop Rocket's head and stepped over him. This caused Rocket to fall completely into the refrigeration drawer. Groot saw Drax glance back with a smirk. The airlock hissed a moment later, marking his departure from the _Milano_.

Rocket kicked his feet ineffectively at thin air, muffling, "Did he just...did that jackass seriously just- Groot! I'm stuck, get me out of here!"

Groot cackled and helped Rocket out of the frigid drawer.

"Tch," snorted Rocket, "C'mon, Groot. Let's get your eye drops in. Don't want Xandar's suns turning everything white on you."

Nodding, Groot sat down and tried not to squirm. His eyes were geared towards dusk, dawn, the dimness of caves and filtered sun beneath forest canopies. They didn't do well in bright sunlight. Especially not the three suns above Xandar.

Groot's only complaint was the hellish sting. But momentary stinging felt much nicer than being unable to open his eyes at all while outside.

"Okay, okay," Rocket sat on Groot's hands to prevent him from punching himself in the face. "Head back, eyes wide open."

His breath smelled strongly like Xandarian apples and spicy sausage, but it wasn't a foul odor. He gave a three count before applying each drop. It was done fast and the acidic sting took a moment to begin.

The drops were cold because of Rocket digging in the refrigeration drawer. Cold made the stinging sensation worse. Groot hissed, both arms itching to fling Rocket off and beat on his tightly closed eyes. Anticipating this, Rocket gave him his red chew tube. Gnawing the rubbery material distracted his mind from the urge to strike himself.

"Hang in there. It'll quit stinging in a minute."

Groot tried to open his eyes. The sting shot through his face like lasers, confusing him. Past and present blurred. His body craved a sharp impact because that pain seemed more real. He wriggled a hand free long enough to clock the side of his own head. Rocket grabbed it before he landed another blow and guided him towards slapping the seat of the chair next to him instead.

Groot kept hitting the chair instead of his face. He heard Rocket scramble away. The sink hissed and his claws scraped closer again. Rocket grunted upon vaulting onto the table.

"Guess I should've warmed 'em up first. My bad." He said a tad sheepishly. "You okay, Groot? Should I wash your eyes out and try again?"

The sting finally shrank to tolerable levels. Groot rubbed his eyes and shook his head as he spat out the chew tube.

" **I** am Groot?"

"No. We're not. It's Freedom Day. We're celebrating _not_ being there anymore. Here." Rocket slid the glass of water across the table. "Might as well drink it since I won't be pouring it on your face."

The cool drink realigned Groot's mind with the present. He grinned and nudged his furry best friend. " _I_ am Groot?"

"They're yours." Rocket packed the red chew tube into his backpack. "Grab as many as you want. By the way, you pick where we go first."

No decision necessary there.

" **I** am Groot!"

"Sure." Rocket chuckled and pointed up with his thumb. "See ya topside."

Moments later, Groot joined him with a handful of Xandarian apples. He finished eating them as he and Rocket approached the rented hover car.

Rocket didn't go cheap. Single file High Rise hover car models could merge with everyday traffic or fly safely into the upper atmosphere. This one had a matte gold hull. Red upholstery with black accents decorated the inside. The seats were adjustable for people of all sizes and shapes.

Groot's favorite feature was the segmented metal roof, which could raise up to let people get in or retract like a telescope into the back of the vehicle for an extra thrill.

Elated, he leapfrogged over Rocket to sit in the back seat. It felt soft and smelled new. He tugged the lever by his right side like he saw done in so many commercials, and the seat slid back with a mechanical hiss. His legs had room to stretch all the way out if he wanted to. Excitement left him slapping his knees and imitating engine noises while Rocket buckled him in.

"Heh, never tried one of these before. This is gonna be fun." Rocket climbed into the front seat and peeked around the backrest. He wore the grin he usually reserved for causing trouble. "Ready?"

Groot steepled his fingers like he saw the passenger do in a High Rise commercial and gave the sternest, most straight-faced nod he could muster.

"You and commercials." Rocket snorted. He rearranged himself to sit properly, adjusted the controls for his small size and buckled his seatbelt. "Here we go!"

A whirr sounded as the roof descended and sealed itself against the frontal windshield. Then the vehicle rumbled to life. Hardly any vibrations traveled through the interior. The engine sounded something akin to a waterfall. The hover car rose straight up, tilted back and shot skyward like a bullet. Groot loved feeling the downward pressure as buildings shrank away. He looked out the side window and saw nothing but blue sky. Not enough, he needed more.

"I _am_ _ **Groot!**_ "

"You got it." Rocket retracted the roof and hit the accelerator. The sudden speed increase thrust them both backwards against their seats. Air roared past them. He jerked the throttle to the left and executed a perfect barrel roll.

"Oh, yeah...oh _yeah!_ " Rocket snarled- an excited snarl that sounded nothing like anger. He took the hover car into a steep dive, pulled up mere feet from hitting the ground and laughed raucously when a hapless Xandarian lost his hairpiece in the breeze.

Groot spread his arms, threw his head back and grinned during the weightless feeling of descent. The welcoming wind spiraled along his bark like insubstantial fractal patterns. As the ascent pressed downward upon him, he pumped his fists and shouted a wordless challenge at the sky. Simply _being_ while hearing his best friend laugh was true freedom.

.o

 _Four years ago_...

Seeing the planet called Xandar loom like a bauble in space proved more intimidating than Groot anticipated.

"Aim for the night side," Rocket instructed. "Remember what I said when you started learning how to fly this ship? It's going to get bumpy and noisy when we hit the atmosphere. It'll feel and sound scarier than it is. The ship isn't going to come apart in the air. Okay?"

Flying among stars was one thing. Entering an atmosphere became another. Verbal descriptions weren't the same thing as experience. All of a sudden Groot felt friction, vibrations and heard noises that dug into his ears. Everything happened at once!

"I _am_ _**Groot!**_ "

"Yes, you can!" Rocket barked at him, "Stop believing you're a dumbass!"

"I **am** Groot!"

"You're not gonna kill us! D'you think I'd let you fly this thing if I thought you were incompetent? C'mon!"

" **I-** _AM-_ _GROOT!_ "

"So was I! Scared ain't the worst thing to be!" Rocket jumped into Groot's lap and pointed at all the lights that weren't blinking. "Look, you're fine! Hey, look. Look at the sensors. Remember what I said about the purple and red lights and alarm buzz? None of that's happening. This is fine. You're doing great. You can land this bucket. C'mon, focus. _Focus_ , Groot."

Groot took a hand off the throttle and bit his wrist so hard he broke off chunks of bark. Rocket pried it from his mouth and put it back on the controls. He had to do the same for the other wrist. Then he pointed out the altimeter readings.

"This is all that's important. Focus here."

Rocket wasn't getting it- Groot's attention kept taking in everything at once. He couldn't prioritize where to look even with guidance. His brain registered danger everywhere. In his fear, he stared straight ahead and let the vibrations rumble through him. Flames stopped licking at the ship. Before him, blackness. An undeveloped area just outside a brightly lit city.

"There we go! Re-entry complete. You did great. Okay, cycle the engines back and push the throttle towards the control panel. Nice and slow."

Groot flipped two switches and jerked the throttle forward. He didn't mean to, his arms did it on their own. The ship shook and stalled into a nosedive. All of a sudden Groot swore his stomach rose towards his throat. Air shrieked along the cargo vessel's edges. He watched the numbers on the altimeter zoom by faster than he could read them.

"I am Groot!" Groot screeched.

"Yeah, we're crashing, but- Groot! Listen! We're not gonna die! We're gonna slow this ship down and control _how_ we crash so we _don't_ die! Now pull!"

Rocket grabbed Groot's forearms and guided him to pull the throttle towards himself. The rising sensation abated only slightly. Groot sensed the speed of their descent slowing. Something scraped the bottom of the cargo vessel until the roaring, vibrations, shrieking metal and howling wind ceased with a bang.

Clear ballistic gel pads fell out of the ceiling at the moment of impact. Rocket and Groot slammed into them instead of being hurled against hard metal. The gel felt absolutely disgusting, like thick mucus.

Groot dug himself out and helped Rocket get loose next. Smoke filled the cockpit. Eerie blue emergency lights came online. One kept flickering. He smashed that bulb with a well-aimed punch.

"Any landing we can walk away from is good enough." Rocket coughed a few times. He ripped something out of a panel beneath the navigation system. "That had to be spotted from the ground. We gotta get out. This thing's leakin' fuel and it's the kind that doesn't react well to oxygen."

"I...am Groot?"

"Yeah, we'll die in the blast. Let's scram."

Unable to move, Groot only blinked until the thud of a second fuel line breaking jolted his body into motion. He scrambled past Rocket and opened the airlock's manual release in two twists. Then he snatched Rocket up because his longer legs could carry them faster.

The pungent smell of ion fuel terrified him. Sizzling noises chased him as he ran. He sprinted blindly over hard, grassy dirt until that sound faded. Even from far off, the ship's explosion battered his ears and lit the darkness like a sun. He dropped to his knees, shielding Rocket from the shockwave and debris.

Tall trees rocked from the blast. Groot smashed his head into the ground as hard as he could. His forehead struck a rock and he knocked himself nearly senseless. He felt Rocket wriggle out from underneath him. Reflections of flames gleamed in his tiny eyes.

"You jerk, stop it!" Rocket grabbed Groot's head, preventing another blow against the rock. He brought their foreheads together without forcing eye contact, "We didn't come all this way just for you to bust your fricken head open on a rock! I know you don't do it to yourself on purpose, but I'm not sitting around to let you keep doing it! Now stand up and gimme a vine, I'll drag you if I have to. We've gotta keep going before we're spotted!"

Groot did as Rocket told him. Being pulled prompted him to move forward and they wove their way through thicker and thicker trees. His nerves screamed from the stress. Grayness closed in. Determining where his body ended and the environment began became impossible.

He shoved his left wrist into his mouth. It tasted like sap. He went for the right. His teeth splintered the bark. Pain made sense in this chaos. Once he started causing it, he couldn't stop.

Rocket's ears twitched at the crunch.

"Groot? What are you- hey! Okay, we're under tree cover. We're gonna stop and sit. Let's sit."

Being conditioned to obey so much led Groot to sit despite not wanting to. He felt Rocket grab his hands. The desire to not injure his friend halted further attempts to bite himself.

"Stop it!" Rocket shouted, his tiny fists clinging to the bases of Groot's thumbs. "I ain't punishing you for this, but you can't keep hurting yourself like that. Look at your wrists! Look at them!"

Exposed cambium tissue gleamed in the distant glow of flames. Groot's dark-adjusted eyes saw them as plainly as if a full moon shone overhead.

The next sentence Rocket spoke showed a desire for understanding no alien ever showed before.

"Why do you do this, Groot?"

Groaning, Groot thrashed his torso back and forth. The only way he could move without hurting Rocket. His body kept vanishing from his awareness. Nothing was scarier than the sensation of disappearing. Moving reminded him that he still existed. He jerked again, his moan becoming a screech.

Rocket jumped backwards, startled. Now Groot was free to smash both fists into the sides of his head. Anything, just to _feel_ his physical corporeality.

He threw himself onto the ground and rolled onto his stomach to slam his head against the dirt. Everything remained real as long as he made it hurt.

"That's it! That is _it!_ "

Rocket used the guide vine to lasso Groot's hands together behind his back. Groot's injured wrists stung, causing him to wail and bang his head harder. Rocket sat on his bound hands, and the weight of his small body brought order to the utter chaos.

"I'm gonna sit on your hands like this so you don't hurt yourself. You lay there and chill out."

He tensed when Groot groaned and wriggled.

"Hey- _hey_. Listen, idiot, _listen_. I ain't mad at you. You're not in trouble and I'm not punishing you, but I'm not gonna stand around and let you beat yourself to death either. I'm untying this vine now, but I'm still sitting on your hands. We'll talk about this when you can talk to me again."

The guide vine slipped away.

And Groot realized he didn't need to keep injuring himself; Rocket's weight anchored his brain to his body in almost the same way biting, thrashing and punching himself did.

He whined and breathed deeply, waiting for his overexcited nerves to simmer down. Then he explained everything.

.o

 _Present day_...

Groot looked to the side where the forest clearing they landed in four years ago showed no signs of the crash. It didn't need to. The memory was enough.

"I _am Groot_."

Rocket gracefully landed the hover car among the thick trees. "Your first time landing a ship wasn't that bad. Could've been worse. What if you crashed into the middle of the Tri-Sun?"

He had a good point. Though, in hindsight, crashing into a hotel-casino combination might have caused a bigger spectacle and ended their freedom.

Groot fumbled with the hover car's seatbelt clasps. Rocket got his off with ease. Unlike the _Milano's_ , these required a different trick to open.

"Put your fingers on the top and bottom," Rocket guided him. "Push and twist."

Now the seatbelt came unbuckled with a click.

Rocket and Groot exited the vehicle together and stood side by side on the soft, sun-dappled soil. Birds twittered as wind rustled the trees.

Groot rumbled, letting a clean scent into the air. " _ **I**_ _am_ Groot."

"For?" Rocket arched a brow.

"I am Groot."

That sent Rocket snickering. "You weren't thanking me for helping you land the ship that night."

Groot nudged his friend playfully and gazed at the veins on a single fan-shaped leaf. He studied how those veins connected it to the stem, which connected to a twig, which connected to a branch, which connected to a limb, which connected to the main bole. With his mind he followed the tree's life backwards to its seed.

Friendship worked the same way. From one seed of commonality, two people could grow together.

Something shiny drew Groot's eyes an inch to the right. He zeroed in on the pearlescent transparency of a hatching butterfly chrysalis. It was nearly the same shape as the leaves, albeit rounder.

"I... _am_ Groot?"

Rocket's ears twitched. He scuffed his feet in the grass. "If we never met? I wouldn't be the me you know. I heard 'em talking about messing with my free will. They wanted a perfect, obedient little weapon. My personality- heh- they called it a _glitch_. I guess I- what're you looking at?"

Groot felt Rocket scurry onto his shoulder and in a moment they peered at the chrysalis together.

To become a butterfly, a caterpillar had to shed its form as it knew it. Everything it was broke off, leaving behind the shell in which it would change its form completely into something else.

Groot held his breath when the butterfly split the chrysalis shell open and crawled out. It had shriveled purple wings and a swollen black abdomen. He offered his finger when the insect came dangerously close to falling off its perch and it crawled on without hesitation. Butterflies needed to keep their wings pointed down until they stiffened for flight.

The butterfly's abdomen contracted as it expelled the wastes it built up and pumped its blood supply into his wings. As they dried, the beautiful wings gained an iridescent fuchsia hue and white spots shone at their bases like stars speckling a night sky.

At last, the butterfly crawled onto the top of Groot's finger to taste the air with its antennae.

"I am Groot?" he asked Rocket.

"No, not like thi- ack!"

The butterfly fluttered off Groot's fingertip to land squarely on Rocket's nose!

"Hey!" Rocket shook his head to no avail. He raised his hand as if to grab the butterfly by its wings, "Get off me, bug!"

Groot laughed and coaxed the insect onto his fingertip. He raised his hand into the sunlight. Now the butterfly fluttered away to pollinate flowers and mate to start the next generation.

Butterflies didn't have a choice in what they became. They were insects with simplistic brains with little capacity to think beyond the instincts that drove them. Nature created them and they lived in harmony with it like Flora Colossi.

" _ **I**_ am **Groot?** " asked Groot.

Rocket's ears twitched. He sat on Groot's shoulder, letting his legs swing freely.

"I never know how to answer that question. I didn't get the chance to be anything else. All I remember is being scared whenever I wasn't around you. You were the first person to touch me without trying to hurt me. I don't wanna change it. We'd never know each other and that's so- I can't imagine that."

He gritted his teeth for a moment as if the thought ailed him. Then he settled again.

"What about you, Groot?"

Groot hung his head because he wouldn't be alive to have this conversation if he wasn't found floating in space. He told Rocket that much through a barely audible grunt.

"Hm...okay, okay, what if your planet wasn't trashed?"

That lit Groot's eyes. He would be exploring a forest like this one or watching over germinating saplings and keeping a steady lookout for storms.

But Groot wouldn't change anything about his life. There was no way he could've saved his homeworld from the cataclysm. Dwelling on it made him sad, and he didn't like being sad!

This nice forest reminded Groot of home. Sometimes, he wished Rocket got to see his planet, but this was close enough. He sighed as he began walking, enjoying the sparkle of sunlight shimmering through the leafy canopy above.

All of a sudden, something Quill said a long time ago popped up in his mind.

"I am Groot!" Groot snickered.

"How about I shove the words 'trash panda' straight up your wooden ass?" Rocket grabbed onto Groot's neck vines when the ride went bumpy. "Where are you going?"

"I am **Groot**."

Groot broke into a sprint. Despite the landscape changes of trees growing larger and paths being obscured, he still traced their exact journey from the crash to a gnarled old tree with a large rock amidst its roots.

That was the rock that led Rocket to _ask_ Groot why he injured himself instead of blaming it on 'defective neurology'. That was the rock resulting in Groot teaching Rocket how to understand his behavior and why he couldn't control it. That rock had a special meaning.

Rocket hopped down and shot Groot a toothy grin. "Headbang rock."

Groot nodded stoically. He crouched and covered its jagged upper edge in cascades of white baby's breath blossoming from his palms. He watched the tiny flowers soften the unfriendly looking rock. Now it resembled a miniature snow-capped mountain.

In his mind, giving baby Rocket a leaf began their friendship, and the moment they shared after he cracked his head open on this rock sealed it forever.

Being heard- such a simple thing- yet Groot knew Rocket always _heard_ him, even when he didn't quite _understand_.

Groot flashed his brightest smile and cupped his hands over the flower-concealed rock. He re-enacted the impacts by patting the rock, then patting his forehead and emitting low, guttural noises in his throat. Then he covered his eyes, uncovered them and picked dozens of blade-shaped leaves off the tree above him. Finally, he meticulously surrounded the rock with a circle of leaves lined up end to end. Making it pretty was his way of thanking it for sealing such a wonderful friendship.

Rocket stood close by, watching without interfering. He understood how important that rock was to Groot, and he never belittled him about his behavior around it.

Wind rustled the tree again. Groot nodded vaguely in the direction of the hover car and stood up. Then, distracted, he flicked his fingers near his eyes to dance with the sparkles of sunlight peeking through the tree canopy.

Rocket made no attempts at stopping or deterring him as they retraced their path. Seeing the hover car again reminded Groot of how fun it was to ride in it.

"Ready to go tear up the city?" Rocket asked with a knowing grin.

"I am Groot!" Groot climbed into the vehicle. He hummed contentedly through being buckled in and relished the downward pressure of liftoff.

.o

 _Four years ago_...

Xandar's weather patterns were easy for Groot to figure out during the long trek from wilderness to civilization. He recognized it was spring-on-the-verge-of-summer when he felt how the balmy nighttime gave way to a misty sunrise.

Unfortunately, he didn't anticipate the absolute white-out pain stabbing his eyes once the suns burned away the mist. His home planet had one sun that wasn't very luminous. Xandar had three, and they were bright. Cupping his hands around his eyes became the sole way he tolerated it. He was happy to notice the wounds from his self-injurious meltdown were mostly healed over.

Rocket found a building to get them out of the sun. They entered a narrow doorway, paused in an alcove just inside and continued through a second inner door.

Groot stopped where the cement floor met black tiles. The shift in materials looked like the edge of a cliff. His legs wouldn't let him budge until Rocket ducked by and didn't plunge to his death.

They stood in a cramped, dirty room facing an alley behind a seedy bar. Eight rusty silver slits were arranged in rows along the walls and floor on either side of the internal doorway. Four hand-sanitizing stations had been cut into the back wall. They used some kind of ionic emitter to kill pathogens. Groot remembered seeing them used frequently on Halfworld. None of these looked like they received any maintenance. He tested one by poking his hand into the rectangular alcove. No response. Just what he expected.

On the bright side, he found drinking fountains tucked into the dead ends between the inner and outer doors. Both worked. He drank generously. Any worry he had about going thirsty faded away.

"I am Groot?"

Rocket shrugged. "It's a bathroom."

"I _am_ Groot?"

"Well, yeah, but this one's public. Technically it's a restroom. It's for taking a piss or a crap. I never saw you do that. Do you...?"

Chuckling, Groot shook his head. His body handled wastes via breathing.

Aliens were _weird_.

He paced the perimeter of the enclosed space. Groaning low in his throat and hearing the sound reflected back from all directions gave him a sense of its smallness. Even then, the bounce-back from his own voice indicated it was about five times the size of his tiny cage on Halfworld.

"Gotta figure out how to trash the flight recording chips. Flushing 'em ain't gonna do it," Rocket muttered as he relieved himself in one of the many odd slits on the floor. Groot averted his gaze- it was rude to watch people pee.

Rocket pushed a scratched switch on the wall and the bottom of the trough opened up a triangular hole that gave an unholy roar as it sucked the urine away. The bathroom's reverb turned it into an intolerable cacophony.

Startled, Groot leapt back and clamped his hands over his ears. The pain lasted until the beastly noise fell silent.

"What's the matter with you?" Rocket cocked his head. "It's just a vacuum toilet."

"I _**am**_ **Groot,** " Groot complained about how loud it was.

Rocket's arched brow suggested he didn't quite understand. Then he shook his head and dumped the black box of flight chips onto the floor. The box itself wasn't much larger than his feet. He'd pulled the casing apart, and the exposed chips looked like tiny fingertip-sized octagons of silver on a white motherboard.

"The chips aren't transmitting, but I can't trust dumping this intact and having somebody trace the flight path. It'll screw us for sure." Rocket kicked the box, causing it to tip onto its side. "I need something that can break the motherboard into a bunch of pieces. Hey, Groot, do you see anything big and heavy anywhere?"

Groot knelt to examine the device. The motherboard fell out when he turned the black box over. It was plastic, a pathetic material. He snapped it in half, placed the pieces one atop the other in his mouth and used his teeth to get a sense of its texture.

Yep, weak plastic. This would be easy.

Groot bit down hard. His powerful jaws caused the plastic to creak and squeak until it shattered apart with a satisfying crunch. He spat the fragments into the black box, beamed in delight and handed it back to Rocket. The motherboard and chips were unrecognizable.

"Did you just-" Rocket blinked at the box. "How the hell?"

" _I_ am... **Groot.** " Groot told him how Flora Colossi had very strong jaws for cracking fruits with hard outer skins and eating nuts without taking the shells off.

"That's handy."

Rocket darted away. He sprinkled the contents of the box into all of the troughs in the floor and systemically flushed them one after the other.

The noise almost overwhelmed Groot again. Grayness pricked at his nerves. He covered his ears until his head stopped throbbing.

"Groot, what's going on? They aren't _that_ loud."

" **I** **am** Groot!" Groot snapped that they sounded excruciatingly loud to _him_.

"Really?"

Groot nodded. Rocket's ears twitched and he looked down at the empty black casing in his hands. He didn't need to voice an apology in words because the change in his demeanor said it all. It passed quickly as he tossed the chip recorder box into a trash chute and headed for the bright rectangle of the door leading outside.

"I'm getting hungry. Let's go scrounge up something to eat."

But Groot wouldn't go near that doorway. He could barely see the details of the pale gray brick wall across the alleyway. Going outside meant his vision became a painful whiteout.

Rocket paused when Groot didn't follow him outside.

"Quit messing around, Groot! Let's go!"

Groot looked down at the dirty black tile floor. He squeezed his eyes shut, anticipating being forced to go outside anyway. A long sigh added to his dread. He heard something similar right before he got punished for noncompliance. The sound compelled him to open his eyes and step towards the door despite the unbearable sensory input.

Brightness stabbed his eyeballs before he got completely outside. His eyelids screwed themselves shut. He pressed both hands to his face and staggered backwards. Hot lumps swelled in his throat. There was no way he could do this.

Terrified, he made himself small by crouching in the inner doorway and hugging his knees to his chest. A whine escaped his throat as he simultaneously apologized for his perceived failure and begged to not get yelled at or zapped.

"Ugh, what are you whining about? Can you just-" Rocket turned and his annoyed bristling seemed to short out like a battery after a power surge. He came back into the restroom and vaulted onto Groot's shoulder.

"Groot? Groot, hey. Listen. Calm down. I'm not gonna yell at you or zap you. What's the problem? You scared? We're safe. Nobody's gonna jump out and drag us back there. That's why I wanted to break the chips. You'll be fine. We gotta-"

"I am... _GROOT_."

"Huh?" Rocket blinked. "No, it doesn't hurt my eyes like that. Damn. Okay...okay, I'm not gonna force you if you can't. We got out of there to get away from that."

He slid off Groot's shoulder and padded towards the bright doorway. "Stay here and I'll come back. We'll figure out how to work around this after we eat. What else is off limits besides meat?"

" **I** am- **Groot**."

"Nothing with meat juice or eggs, nothing spicy and nothing sour. Right. Got it. Don't leave this bathroom for anybody except me...but it's okay to bail if the bar starts to blow up or burn down."

Rocket adjusted his shorts and squinted at Groot's frown.

"Yo, Groot, I ain't insultin' you. I know you've got a brain that works. It's other people that I don't trust. They'll take advantage of you and it won't be your fault. Hey, it's fine. You're fine. Stay put. I promise that I'll be back."

Then Rocket dropped onto all fours and darted off with a flick of his tail. The implants visible through his skin gleamed in the sunlight.

Groot sat next to one of the drinking fountains. A crack in the cement floor drew his gaze. He traced it with his eyes. The jagged scar ran from the edge of the outer door in a diagonal pattern and disappeared behind the drinking fountain.

Wind whooshed gently past the door. It faced northeast, which meant the breeze came from due north. There was probably an ocean in that direction- the wind smelled faintly salty.

Groot kept his eyes fixed on the crack in the ground. He imagined it as a miniature canyon leading straight to Xandar's molten orange core.

Outside, wheels squeaked as somebody lugged a cart of supplies through the alley. Something glass pinged in the crates. The person stopped the cart outside, set an object down in the doorway and came into the bathroom. They didn't notice Groot as they hurried to use one of the toilets. Whoever they were, they had dark brown skin and wore some kind of white jumpsuit covered in zippers.

The drink in the white and gold can the person set down was carbonated. Groot heard the fizz crackling. It seemed so loud- how could anyone hear anything else over a racket like that?

 _Carbonation_ , one of the many words they tried to get him to say on Halfworld. The only good thing Rav and Peth, the behaviorists assigned to study him, ever did was teach him words for things that he previously didn't know. Carbonation became the only painless memory he had of them.

Groot skulked forward, picked up the can and sipped the contents. He grimaced as he reassumed his previous position. Yuck...that was cold, overly-sweetened _carbonated coffee!_

Who in their right mind carbonated coffee like that? Yuck! Blech! Gross!

The alien finished their business. Vacuum toilets weren't as loud with a wall partly blocking their scary roar. The person left and scooped their drink up along the way. Not once did they glance in Groot's direction.

The cart rattled away. Sunlight filled in the dark spot where it once stood.

.o

 _Present day_...

What a fun morning. Groot helped Rocket scam six different card game tables in the Tri-Sun casino. Easy to do since the lunch rush hadn't begun and the dealers weren't warmed up. Their scamming ended when the floor boss got a little too interested in how they played.

Then they "accidentally" broke a digital slot machine, ran to the opposite end of the casino with the chips it produced and had a blast commandeering an entire row of old fashioned pull-lever slots. Three of the machines Groot pulled hit jackpots one after the other. Multiple "winner" bells blasted his ears. He didn't complain about it; the credit chip shower filled three buckets!

"Seriously, Groot? _Seriously?_ " Rocket stared in amazement.

Groot shrugged. Sometimes, slot machines required a magic touch.

He noticed a lot more people appearing, which meant the lunch rush had begun. The noise level didn't climb slowly, it exploded. He squinted at his three buckets, annoyed that the indoor fountain wasn't running. Usually, the fountain's hissing roar armored him against the grayness pressing inward on his brain. Anytime he felt overwhelmed, he paced or sat near it for a few minutes, calmed himself and resumed gambling after. Like pumping Drax's hands during a shutdown, the fountain sopped up the chaos and replaced it with calm.

But no fountain meant no sponge, so the abrupt crescendo of noise caused the grayness in his nerves to do the same.

Groot strained in a habitual attempt at hearing something besides muddled voices, dinging bells and numerous footsteps. Everything sent anger crashing under his bark. He stomped his foot and growled faintly, annoyed that he was about to cut this casino jag short through no fault of his own.

Rocket stopped snickering. "Hey, Groot, you getting overstimulated?"

Syllables failed before Groot formulated an answer. He stared blankly ahead through unfocused eyes, his last defense against making a spectacle of himself.

Rocket looked around. He stood between Groot's feet, a dangerous place to anyone else, and spoke to him in precise sentences.

"Groot, listen. Gimme a vine. I'll get you somewhere quiet."

A long vine extended off Groot's abdomen like an umbilical cord and wrapped around Rocket's left wrist. Rocket unwrapped it and gripped it in his right hand. Groot fixated on the wildly colorful carpet as Rocket led him forward. They approached the narrow hallway containing employee access doors, turned right where it split in two directions and approached the public restrooms. There was a sliding door between the restrooms that opened into a walk-in custodial closet. A dark, quiet place free from casino noises or lights.

Seeing relief so close pulled Groot's guard down prematurely. Unnerving grayness collapsed on his brain and its pressure rebounded under his bark like a supernova shockwave. Impossible to hold in any longer. Not moving meant losing all sense of his body, and losing all sense of his body felt like dying. He bellowed a wordless curse and pounded his fists against the sides of his head to shatter the unbearable pressure off his nerves.

"Groot! Hang on!" Rocket got the door open and yanked him the last few steps into the closet.

Groot let the vine break off his stomach and sat down. He locked his teeth around his left wrist until pain lanced up his arm. Rocket dumped the red chew tube from his backpack and pressed it to Groot's cheek. A prompt that worked...sometimes. Instead of taking it, Groot's body decided throwing himself face-first into the floor and banging his head was a better alternative. It certainly made him see stars. He didn't want to see stars, so he banged his head harder.

Rocket hurriedly broke the padded seat off a stool and shoved it in the path of Groot's head. Groot pushed it aside. He needed to strike his head against the soft-hard floor.

"Shit! Okay, okay..."

Rocket deterred a face punch and directed Groot's fist at the stool seat instead. Groot liked the bounce, so he continued pounding his fist on the cushion. He started slapping his head with his left hand. Not on purpose- he didn't realize he did it until Rocket clambered onto his back, grabbed his left hand and pinned it behind his lumbar area.

The chew tube plopped on the floor by Groot's face.

"C'mon, Groot, take the chew tube."

That time, Groot snatched the rubbery tube in his teeth and bit down like he wanted to kill it. His reaction continued its uncontrollable spiral. He keened, a high-pitched noise he knew sounded annoying, yet could not control. Screaming gave all that energy a safe escape route.

"Easy, Groot. Nobody's taking your water away," Rocket murmured, keeping his voice calm. "Easy, easy..."

But what if someone did anyway?

Another gray shockwave lit Groot's nerves. Images of receding water plagued his thoughts. Oh, he hated getting stuck in that loop! He stopped punching the stool cushion and went for his head again, trying with all his might to bash the thought off his brain.

Footsteps padded towards the ladies room. A tall Krylorian woman stopped to outright gawk at Groot while Rocket tried to redirect his head punching back to the stool cushion. She wore an expensive looking silver pantsuit. Pearl-encrusted bands held her waist-length white hair in a tall topknot.

"Lady," Rocket said slowly, "You've got ten seconds to keep walking before I knock that cheap wig off your brainless head. Yeah, I can tell it's a wig. Everybody can."

Actually, Groot had no idea...but he wasn't in any condition to say so. The lapse caused him to bang his head twice against the floor. Nothing was more humiliating than strangers seeing him in this state. He willed the floor to swallow him whole and anger rebounded in the pit of his stomach when it didn't.

The woman's expression hardened. She approached the ladies' restroom with a flippant flick of her manicured nails. "That thing is a liability. It shouldn't be out in public."

An audible gasp escaped Rocket. He seized Groot's discarded vine and swung it at her like a whip. It knocked her white hair off, revealing a thin, stringy burgundy bob that barely reached her ears.

"Oh!" The woman grabbed at her head and gaped at Rocket.

"Fuck you," Rocket growled menacingly. He planted a knee on the back of Groot's head to halt his head-banging and punching. "You got two choices. Either you keep walking, or I knock your head off and piss down your windpipe while _my best friend_ makes toothpicks out of your fingernails."

Rocket cracked the vine against the floor. The next sound Groot heard was a shriek and the restroom door hissing shut.

"That's what I thought!" Rocket flung the vine aside and muttered about jackass losers.

Groot punched himself the second the knee on his head moved off. Rocket pounced on his right wrist, hooked it underneath his legs along with his left hand and patted the back of his neck in an inverted triangular pattern. Very firm, predictable and regular. Firm felt good. Regular made sense. Predictable equaled safe.

"She was a dumbass, Groot." Rocket's agitation dissolved to calmness. "Hang in there. You're not gonna go thirsty for freaking out. We'll get something to drink after this blows over, okay?"

Groot stomped on the wall behind his feet. Being promised a drink gave his mind something else to grab onto. Images of colorful drinks being poured filled the gray emptiness in his nerves. He pressed his forehead against the cool, carpeted floor. Something good waited at the end of this. Something good wasn't punishment or pain.

Endorphins overtook the cortisol and adrenaline coursing under his bark. His heart rate slowed. He gnawed on the red tube while focusing on the small hands guiding him towards calm. Eventually, his desire to bite abated and he spat the chew tube out.

"There we go. You've got this, Groot."

Rocket switched from neck-patting to squeezing individual vine fibers. That helped release tension. Groot felt like he plunged into deep water at high speed. Buoyancy wouldn't let him stay under for long. He laid there, listening to Rocket's breathing and feeling loved as he rose towards sensory equilibrium.

The next time he opened his eyes, things made sense again.

"I am Groot." Groot spoke to tell Rocket he was all right and explained why he lost control.

"Yeah. It's really crowded, and-"

" _I_ am Groot."

"...oh. I didn't notice the indoor fountain wasn't on. Is that what threw you off?"

Groot nodded. He moved his shoulders, a signal to Rocket that he intended to sit up. Rocket slipped the chew tube back into his backpack and hopped off Groot's back.

"Lemme see your wrist?" Rocket asked. He examined the wrist Groot bit, then checked his forehead for cracks. "Looks fine. Feel better?"

Nodding, Groot took a deep breath. "I... am Groot."

"Nothing to be sorry for. C'mon," Rocket gestured towards the bright cacophony around the corner, "Let's get out of here. We'll go somewhere quieter for drinks."

A perfect plan. Groot self-consciously dusted off and stood up. He noticed a pearl from the Kyrlorian woman's wig on the ground, so he swiped it and rubbed it against his teeth. Real pearls had a slightly gritty texture. This one felt smooth. A knockoff! Did that mean her fancy clothes were a knockoff, too?

How disappointing. Groot flicked the pearl backwards over his shoulder and shook his head at Rocket's questioning look. Too bad, they could've made some units off it.

The Krylorian woman exited the bathroom with her wig in place like nothing happened. She froze upon noticing Groot's considerable height. Her nose barely reached the bottom of his chest!

Groot slowly crossed his arms and stared at the tiny pink rhinestones on the tips of her long, fake eyelashes. Then he flashed his biggest, silliest smile. It unnerved her so much that she almost tripped on her high heels bolting away.

"Wow," Rocket watched her run, "I hope she ain't married. I feel bad for whoever has to put up with that."

" **I am** Groot," Groot agreed.

He prepared himself mentally for the casino cacophony. Now the lack of the usual fountain white noise didn't bother him because he knew to expect its absence. He followed Rocket out onto the main casino floor. Their buckets were still miraculously underneath the slot machine where they left them. What kind of good luck let _that_ happen?

They cashed their substantial amounts of chips and watched their unit counts jump. Groot did it all in a haze; he was still recovering and longed to escape the chaotic environment.

Moments later, they both emerged outside. Rocket kept gesticulating and laughing.

"Let 'em search the surveillance all they want. They ain't gonna see shit!" Rocket guffawed. "I missed messing with those losers."

Groot couldn't help but nod in agreement. He missed screwing casinos over, too.

They stopped by a decorative fountain because Groot craved the sound. He stuck his face right in the spray to enjoy it.

"You're embarrassing." Rocket said it jokingly with a smile.

Groot let water fill his mouth, stood over Rocket and grinned so it drooled out all over him. Rocket dodged away, preventing all but his tail from getting soaked.

"Augh, Groot, that's disgusting!"

Laughing, Groot gathered another mouthful, sprayed it straight up and let it rain down on his own face. Rocket could only face-palm.

"C'mon, you overgrown sprinkler system, let's check out the new bar over there."

They resumed their casual walk towards the new outdoor bar near the science museum. It was empty except for the bartender and people passing through on their way to other destinations.

" **I** am Groot?"

"Yeah. You want something fizzy?"

"I _am_ Groot."

"Me, too. Hang back. I'll go order a double."

" _I_ am _Groot_."

"I know, I know."

Groot loitered off to the side while Rocket climbed onto the tall, yellow barstool of the outdoor bar and talked to the chubby Xandarian bartender. The bartender wore a pastel green tunic and had his short dyed-orange hair pulled upward in a topknot just like the Krylorian lady in the casino. Groot thought the combination of orange hair, pasty skin and pastel green tunic looked like an unrolled Kree cigar, but he kept that to himself.

Lots of people on Xandar wore topknots regardless of gender. Hairstyle and fashion trends were such strange, silly things. Most of them looked utterly ridiculous. Why did everybody have to copy some rich, famous person's look anyway?

Rocket said, "Give us a fizzy fruit float with all kinds of umbrella froo-froo stuff on top."

"Would you like an artificial sweetener or a natural one?"

"Natural." Rocket paused to glance at Groot's stern expression. He gave his tail an irritated flick that shook water onto the ground. "And keep it virgin. No booze."

Groot broke into a smile as the bartender prepared the drink.

Rocket flattened his ears and looked away from Groot's face. "What if I do one shot? C'mon, Groot, just one shot?"

" _ **I**_ am Groot." Groot approached the bar.

"Please?"

The impassive frown on Groot's face answered clearer than words.

"Fine...you're right anyway." Rocket grumbled under his breath. "But I really want one."

Addictions were an illness, not a moral failing. In Rocket's case, a predisposition to addiction came with his complex post-traumatic stress issues. Groot helped him shake a horrific drug habit three years ago. Drugs were something Rocket swore never to return to, but alcohol was different. Alcohol could be acquired legally in large quantities. It showed up almost everywhere as a constant, nightmarish trigger for anyone trying to escape it.

Groot acknowledged Rocket's valiant efforts to say sober by nudging him with his hip. He used his huge hand to cover up the alcoholic items on the touch screen menu built directly into the glass bar top. Hiding tempting items on the menu bolstered Rocket's willpower.

He glanced over his shoulder at the other people walking about. The outdoor bar wasn't too crowded. Then again, it was still early in the day. Most of the people stopping by ordered something caffeinated. At least, he assumed as much because of their clothing. There were many business suits, topknot hairstyles and purposeful faces. People who looked like that often had pockets ripe for picking.

"I am Groot?"

"Nope. Can't do that in daylight anymore. Besides, we already took the piss out of the Tri-Sun."

Point taken. Groot acquiesced silently and swiped sideways to scroll the alcohol off the touch screen menu. He had fun flicking the pictures of fruit up and down and highlighting random blocks of text.

"Your drinks," said the bartender.

"Nice," Rocket said back, though Groot couldn't tell if he meant it sarcastically or genuinely.

The bubbling concoction came in a large brandy glass. It was bright orange with two red curly straws protruding from an array of colorful flowers and paper umbrellas. Chunks of fresh-sliced fruit further added to the delightful color scheme.

Groot left a generous tip for the quick service. Quill taught him that. It caused bartenders to give even better service next time. He carried the drink with his large hand as he followed Rocket to one of the transparent round tables situated beneath a triangular rainbow umbrella. The noisy carbonation nearly drowned out the roar of the nearby fountain.

"I am _Groot_ ," Groot said upon setting the drink down.

"Eh, I think the fountain's louder. Why? You havin' super ears again?"

Nodding, Groot swung himself to sit next to Rocket rather than across from him. He fit his legs awkwardly under the table that wasn't really made for someone of his tall stature and pointed to their straws.

Rocket grabbed his straw. "Fine, you're on. Winner takes the fruit."

Groot bent low and took his straw into his mouth the same time Rocket did. Rocket gave a three count with his fingers. They both started gulping the bubbly tangy-sweet smoothie as fast as they could.

Carbonated drinks were tricky. All those bubbles created air, which caused a stomach to expand long before it got full. Groot's strategy was to take huge mouthfuls before swallowing it. The scratchy bubbles sounded like applause popping on the roof of his mouth and tickled all the way down his throat. He began to feel full after five gulps.

They nearly drained the glass when they broke off and belched full-volume at the same time. Rocket let off a secondary burp. Totally involuntary, judging by his widening eyes.

"Damn!"

Groot burped a second time on purpose to make it a tie. It tasted fruity. He flashed a sheepish smile. "I am Groot?"

"I guess so," snickered Rocket. "Fine, I'll get the sour stuff out of there. I see some red Krylorian limes and black Sneeper cherries. You take the rest."

At that, Groot plucked up the multicolored paper umbrellas, set them aside and ate the tasteless flowers meant to be garnish for the drink. He let Rocket pick out the red lime chunks and black cherries. That left tangy Kree orange slices and bright green pieces of peeled Xandarian apple behind. Groot happily polished them off in three bites.

Rocket seemed unusually quiet and reserved after he devoured his prize. He poked a fly with his straw. It didn't move. It was dead. He flicked it off the table and turned away to peer at every entry point of the outdoor bar. His nose twitched, smelling the air.

Hyper-vigilance- Rocket's flashbacks often began that way. Sometimes going too deep into thought woke up memories he didn't like to remember.

Groot decided to find out how many open paper umbrellas he could fit into his mouth. All six of them, it turned out. He tapped Rocket's shoulder. Rocket spun with his ears pinned back to say something snide, did a double take and blinked.

"You've got issues, Groot." His ears flicked upright again. "Serious, serious issues."

Groot grinned, which pushed the umbrellas forward until their toothpick handles stuck between his teeth. They spun around if he moved his tongue back and forth across the toothpick points.

A successful distraction. Rocket cracked a smile and stopped checking all the entrances and exits. Satisfied, Groot picked the colorful paper umbrellas out of his teeth, folded them shut and lined them up in a neat row that matched a rainbow. Now he could ask Rocket what bothered him without making him feel worse. He cocked his head, grunted inquisitively and raised his brow ridges.

"Eh, just thinking about Yondu. Heh, did you know his own parents sold him into Kree slavery? He went through some of the same stuff I did- he grew up being treated like shit."

Groot remembered how spooked Rocket seemed after Yondu wiped out the traitors on his ship that fateful day, but never knew why.

Rocket sighed and went on, "Then that bastard died saving Quill, and it's what made me realize I'd die for you, Groot. I'm not as much of a black hole as I thought I was, but..."

Another sigh. Speaking of these things caused him a lot of discomfort, yet he kept talking.

"I keep thinking of something I heard Jormin say while he had me filleted open on his operating table." He picked a piece of cherry out of his back teeth. "He said I've got a twenty-five percent chance of sudden death because of an implant."

A frown creased Groot's wooden brow. He rumbled unhappily and pointed to Rocket's chest. That caused Rocket to glance down at himself.

"Yeah, the heart implant."

Rocket used his claws to scratch a crude drawing of a heart on the transparent tabletop. He drew a crescent shape behind it with a network of fine lines flowing along the heart's muscular walls. Groot covered his ears when the sound overpowered everything else happening around him. He hummed to shut the scratching noises out until they stopped.

"My heart implant has an intricate network of wires attached to the nerves that control my heartbeat. I'm talking wires finer than a strand of Gamora's hair, here. There's a tiny chance my heartbeat is gonna break 'em someday. If they break, it's like fraying a live wire in a ship. The shock will stop my heart. I could drop dead right now and there's nothing anybody can do. It's a really small chance, but...ugh."

He covered the scratches with a napkin and spat on the ground.

At a loss, Groot threw out the first thought he had. "I _AM_ Groot?"

"Nope. Defibrillators disrupt a bad rhythm so a good one can start up again. You can't fix no rhythm." Rocket's whiskers twitched at Groot's horrified expression. He shook his head. "Ugh, not the eyes. C'mon. I don't usually think about it. It's just...shit. I'm having morbid intrusive thoughts right now. Freedom Day is a mess of memories. Going out and making an ass of myself is how I get away from it, but this is the first time I did it sober."

Groot laid a hand on Rocket's back. His kind touch wasn't rejected. Rocket's skeletal implants were a source of frustrating chronic pain, but his relaxed shoulders indicated he wasn't hurting much today.

The weight of what Rocket said crystallized in Groot's mind. There were a lot of scary and sad facts, yet his mind zeroed in on the bright silver lining: One fourth of a whole something was much less than three fourths of that same whole something! It wasn't all bad!

"I am _Groot_."

"Yeah, seventy-five percent is a hell of a lot better than twenty-five." Rocket curled his hands into tight fists. "But you're not getting it. When it's life and death, anything higher than zero percent is scary. I don't think you know what it's like to wonder if you're gonna wake up again when you close your eyes to sleep."

That prompted Groot to spread his hands questioningly. He didn't like where this conversation was going, but he knew Rocket needed to voice these thoughts. Keeping things like that inside made him angry and confused. Especially since he developed the habit of shunting all his feelings into rage or aggression.

Being tough kept him alive on Halfworld and in prison, but he didn't know how not to do it anywhere else. Not when publicly showing any sort of weakness resulted in more ridicule, pain and punishment.

"What was it like, Groot?" Rocket looked up and squinted. "Do you know you're dead when you die? Do you still _exist?_ "

For that split second his expression became identical to the one he made as a terrified little being who fit perfectly into Groot's palm. The answer for why he asked the question shone clearly in his demeanor.

The unknown factor of death scared him. He covered it up by dishing it out to other people in firefights and by acting like their lives never mattered anyway. But deep down in his heart he feared knowing it was going to happen to him eventually. It didn't matter when or how, he couldn't run from it forever.

Now it became Groot's turn to squint. His voice alone couldn't convey his experience of Forever, yet he knew something that could.

"I am Groot?" He tilted his head towards the science museum right off the outdoor bar's eastern exit.

"Tch, figures. I'm being a downer and we're supposed to be having fun." Rocket rubbed irritably at his nose. "What the hell, let's go kill an hour or two in there. I know you love messing with the light wall."

He hopped off his seat and padded towards the outdoor bar's eastern exit.

Groot followed with a secretive grin of his own. He had no intention of touching the light wall, but he wasn't going to tell Rocket that.

.o

 _Four years ago_...

Measuring time by clocks meant nothing to Groot. Clocks never made sense- he could read them and knew what the numbers signified, but the information was useless.

Aliens seemed trapped between this tick and tock they called time. They chopped it up into smaller and smaller chunks like tiles on a bathroom wall. Were their lives so chaotic that they had to shove as much as possible into those blocks they called seconds, minutes and hours?

Flora Colossi experienced time like the wind. It was insubstantial, yet its march could be measured by the effects on the environment as one sensory experience melted into the next. Performing a task in thirty seconds or ten minutes made no difference. Things took as long as they took. The timeframe rarely mattered so long as something got done.

Flora Colossi never had reasons to hurry unless a forest was threatened by floods, tornadoes, lightning...or the entire planet burning.

Groot slapped himself in the back of his head to shake off the memory.

Warmer air wafted through the door. Shadows slowly changed position on the ground. More people passed to and fro outside. The noise level gradually increased, yet the buffer of being inside meant Groot wasn't perturbed by it.

The gray brick wall across the way had fallen completely into shadow when Rocket reappeared. He'd somehow procured himself a sleeveless green shirt that fit perfectly on his body- Groot would later learn he wore clothes to avoid sunburn on the bald part of his back. He dragged a creaky green wagon behind him with two cloth sacks of something bouncing in the tray.

Excited, Groot jumped to his feet. He didn't set foot outside because Rocket told him not to, and he wanted to follow the rules exactly right.

"I found a high end restaurant that tosses tons of food. Could only get two bags into the wagon, though. I got more stuff hidden underneath 'em."

Nodding, Groot eagerly leaned far out of the doorway and helped Rocket get the wagon safely over the threshold of the outer bathroom door. They shoved it against a drinking fountain where it wasn't easily accessible from the door.

Groot sat on the floor and opened the first bag. That had to be Rocket's food- it contained meat. The other bag didn't. In it, Groot found three rectangular containers of a salad mix, another of assorted nuts, a third had something white, and the silver thermal container had warm bread that smelled sweet.

Halfworld's drilled-in rules flashed across his brain. He clasped his hands in his lap and stared at the delicious food, waiting.

New environments meant new rules. It always went that way on Halfworld. They conditioned him to do nothing unless instructed for reasons nobody ever explained.

Rocket dug into something tubular, gray and crunchy with a spicy scent. "Groot? Nothing's contaminated with meat. I checked."

Groot didn't move even though hunger ached in his stomach. He jumped when Rocket slapped down his crunchy gray stick and stood up.

"C'mere, gimme some forehead."

That prompted Groot to lean over until his brow touched Rocket's. He felt Rocket's tiny hands grasp his shoulders.

"Groot, the rules on Halfworld don't apply anymore. Those jerks don't want you to think for yourself. You're not a puppet with a hand up your ass. _Think_ for yourself. They didn't want either of us doing that, so let's make that our revenge. Let's break all the shitty rules they threw at us as a 'fuck you' at them. You with me on that?"

Rocket chuckled at Groot's confused grunt.

"Look, lemme break it down. You're allowed to ask questions whenever the hell you want. You're allowed to eat and drink whenever the hell you want. You're allowed to not eat or drink something you hate. You're allowed to refuse something if your brain can't handle it. You're allowed to move around and make noises if you need to. You're allowed to make your own decisions now. Are we clear?"

"...I... _am_ Groot."

"Good. That's more like it." Rocket patted Groot's shoulders before hopping back to resume eating his gray crunchy stick. "By the way, that white stuff is some kind of beans. They're really salty. I hated 'em."

Groot broke the container open and shoved a handful into his mouth. They were warm and crunchy. Describing them as "salty" was an understatement. These beans could peel the paint off walls! He coughed and spat them down his chest.

Rocket snorted, "Don't like those either? Good! Tell me how much you hate 'em!"

Groot sneered and hurled the container across the alcove where its contents splattered all over that corner. Then he scraped the beans off his chest and flicked the mess on floor. Finally, he gave his mouth a dramatic forearm wipe and grimaced to show how much he _despised_ those white beans. It felt _so good_ to express true dislike without being punished for it.

"Yeah! Tell it like it is! What's it taste like?"

" _ **I**_ am **Groot.** "

Rocket's chortling became outright laughter, "It's gotta be bad if it tastes worse than shit!"

His mirth was contagious. Groot joined in the guffawing. Realizing he didn't get zapped for not liking those beans finally convinced him that he truly escaped Halfworld.

The bread ended up tasting delicious. Sweet, though not as sweet as Xandarian apples, and a lot mushier. It practically melted in his mouth. He ate half the loaf. The rest got placed back into its thermal container. He could go a lot longer without food than Rocket, and he wanted to make sure he kept some on standby in case procuring more took longer than expected.

"Listen. We'll chill out here till tomorrow. Then I'm gonna teach you some of the crap they programmed into my brain."

"I am Groot?"

Rocket finished off the crunchy gray stick and wiped his hands on his shirt.

"Yeah, most of it is gonna be illegal, but who cares? Halfworld stole my future and the law ain't gonna do anything about it, so why should we follow laws that didn't save us from that hellhole? Screw that! From now on, it's you and me against the universe." He held up his hand. "Deal?"

Groot placed his index fingertip against Rocket's palm. They shook hands on it, and from that moment on they relied on no one except each other.

.o

 _Present day_...

Groot hooked his finger around Rocket's hand as he hit the big red button that triggered the antigravity emitters in the walls, ceiling and floor. All the lights went off except for a faint white glow and a soft hum.

Antigravity chambers were meant to teach young Xandarians about life in space. The science museum had the biggest one- somebody could park the _Milano_ in the center with room to spare. They didn't just use this for education, it was also a favorite place for antigravity paintball tournaments. But those happened in the fall, not spring or summer.

Groot relished the momentary lightheaded disorientation that came with losing all sense of up and down. He kicked off the floor without explaining his intentions to Rocket.

"What the- whoa!" Rocket held tighter to Groot's finger. "Hey!"

" _I_ am Groot," Groot said as he located the center of the room.

Now there was nothing. Nothing above, nothing below, nothing on either side of them. They were perfectly stationary. The only thing breaking the nothingness was air flowing gently from the vents in all four corners.

Groot grunted to get Rocket's attention and told him to close his eyes, relax and _experience_. Rocket did it even though his curious expression held many questions.

Glowing golden spores drifted from Groot's open left hand. The room soon resembled the starry depths of space. Not quite identical- the air vents caused the spores to circulate slowly along the walls. Forever, like the universe, was a sea of infinite light and dark that stretched beyond comprehension.

Finally, just as he had aboard the _Dark Aster_ , Groot said, " _We_ are Groot."

And then he let go of Rocket's hand. He stayed beside him and held his palm behind his back to steady him if he panicked.

But Rocket didn't panic. He exhaled the tense breath he held. Not a word passed through his lips. Tears welled on his closed eyelids. Any remaining tension sloughed off his muscles. He extended his arms, an instinctive attempt to balance.

Rocket floated there, motionless, touched only by air from the vents.

He was smiling.

He _got_ it.

Groot backed off and flapped his hands, which stirred the spores in his immediate vicinity. He had to contain his rising joy with movement or he would start shouting, and he didn't want to disturb the quiet.

His large eyes fixated on the rows of dim lights just visible between his spores. Thoughts spiraled into each other in his head like fractals spinning through random colors.

This thing people called _tomorrow_ was promised to no one. Visiting _yesterday_ didn't hurt, though living there meant today got forgotten. Dreading tomorrow blotted out today with fear. But people tended to do those things anyway. It wasn't their fault- their lives conditioned them to avoid the present moment as much as possible.

Groot stared at the row of lights above him and flicked his fingers by his ears to maintain his train of thought. Living moment to moment in _today_ left little room for regret or doubt. If he or Rocket died tomorrow, spending today afraid of tomorrow meant endless 'why-didn't-I?' yesterdays.

He remembered the moment he chose self-sacrifice inside the crashing _Dark Aster_ , and he gave no further thought to his own tomorrows. Rocket, along with Drax, Gamora and Quill, had somehow become his forest. Forests were never a single tree and they would continue if one tree fell.

One moment he'd been alive. In the next, he was expanding into Forever.

"What I want to know is..." Rocket looked over at Groot, "...did you feel it happen?"

"I...am _Groot_."

Rocket swished his tail uneasily. He moved his arms as if floating on water. "So why the hell did you give something like that up? What really brought you back, Groot?"

It took Groot a moment to realize Rocket asked him a second question. He stretched out his finger to catch a stray teardrop that floated off Rocket's face. Surface tension adhered it to his fingertip like highly mobile shrink-wrap. He drifted closer and held that finger up between them.

"Because I wanted..." Rocket rubbed his eyes and his tone hardened. "Damn it. You and your bleeding gold heart! You're worth dying for. I'm not. You heard what I said outside at the table. What if I croaked ten minutes later? What then?"

A small pang throbbed in Groot's heart. He grasped Rocket under his arms and pulled him against his chest. His clearest final memory before his rebirth was looking into Rocket's eyes and cracking a smile as he shattered. The impact didn't hurt. Knowing Rocket's heart would look like his broken body after the crash? That hurt.

"Groot!" Rocket squirmed. "C'mon, not the hugging! Augh!"

But Groot held on anyway, hyper-aware of his best friend's small, fast heartbeat against his bigger, slower one. He felt Rocket's heart thump four times in the pauses after his own beat once. Quarter notes to go with his whole notes. Memories of the soft pick-pock noises he heard through a stethoscope flooded his mind. His own heartbeat would seem empty without Rocket's as an echo.

Groot ducked his head and closed his eyes. Unconsciously, he began rubbing and patting Rocket's back the way he did to rescue him from nightmares. He thought of how the cambium around his wrist abscesses sometimes formed hard scab-like membranes that needed massaging and squeezing to dig all the infection out. Did the same thing work for emotions?

Anger was a safe shell Rocket used to contain all his other emotions, and he didn't always know what to do when it broke open unexpectedly. Sometimes, when he got triggered, it was like watching that shell bow outward under the strain of keeping everything buried inside.

Rocket slapped Groot's shoulder once. Not a hard blow. He struck again, fiercer, though still not painful. He kept hitting. Over and over.

Clear droplets floated free in the dimness. Groot let a taproot emerge off his shoulder to catch them. They tasted like immeasurable sorrow. Like a body strapped down and cut open. Like someone begging for the pain to stop. Like a person who felt terrified no matter how tough he made himself look. Like someone so afraid of love that he could only stand to touch it without wholly letting it in.

Rocket wanted his life to hold value and for his (hopefully far-off) death to have meaning. Only problem? He couldn't tell they already did. The scars of his past obscured those truths. Those scars were the anger-shell he hid behind so nobody knew how scared he really felt. They got built on layers of pain just like abscesses sometimes had many chambers that took ages to fully drain.

Fortunately, Groot was patient. He did not expect to break through today or tomorrow. But someday, he hoped to help Rocket discover a new kind of Freedom Day.

A hand brushing his face woke Groot from his ruminations. There were thicker golden-hued droplets floating amidst the clear ones.

"What the hell are _you_ crying about?" Rocket sniffed. His ears were pinned back. Depending on the situation, that meant anger or fear.

Groot cocked his head to look into Rocket's eyes. He smiled sadly. They were tears that carried reflections of the importance their friendship held in his heart.

Rocket sniffed. His lips quivered as his ears relaxed into their neutral forward position. "Being open like that gets you hurt in the end, Groot."

Shaking his head, Groot told Rocket a story Quill shared with him shortly after his disastrous encounter with Ego.

This legend centered around a mysterious avian creature that sang only one song in its life. Every bird of this mythical species left its nest to seek a thorn tree, and it didn't rest until it found one. Then this avian, so fragile and brief, dove and impaled itself upon the sharpest thorn.

Instincts no one understood drove it to commit this seemingly tragic act of self-destruction. Yet, as the bird died, it sang and caused all other birds to fall silent. It paid its existence for a single superlative song, but everything quieted to hear it because nothing else compared.

Only through immense suffering and death could this avian give its absolute best, but it had no concept of the thorn, the pain or the death to come. It had no knowledge of the beauty its final breaths brought forth. All it knew was it wanted to sing.

People, on the other hand, were perfectly aware what they were getting into when they pierced themselves with "thorns", and they still did it anyway.

Groot couldn't conceive of a more deserving thorn to pierce his heart than Rocket. He didn't think of the pain or death to come because that meant wasting today by fearing a distant tomorrow.

"That's the stupidest- ugh, Quill is full of shit." Rocket wiped at his eyes, "Geez, Groot! You're such a softie."

The reaction didn't hurt Groot's feelings. It was a diversion, something Rocket did amazing at.

Their tears floated around them. Groot noticed clear droplets merging with gold ones. The transparent drops didn't make the gold ones any clearer, but nearly every gold droplet found a clear companion.

He watched love and pain collide amidst his glowing spores while he hugged his best friend, and to him it felt just like Forever.

.o

 _Four years ago_...

Clouds blanketed the late afternoon sun. Weight entered the air, a familiar, humid feeling.

Groot recognized the sensation. He struggled briefly to split his attention between watching Rocket mix liquid chemicals in a small beaker and listening to the breeze outside the door.

"Okay, it's ready. Lemme try this on myself first. I heard this stuff stings and I'm not gonna make you deal with it if it doesn't work."

With that, Rocket tipped his head back and used the little stirring tool to drip a single droplet of beaker fluid into his left eye. That eye instantly screwed shut. He hissed, keeping his hand over it without rubbing.

"Ow, stings like a motherf- damn! Oh. Wait. It's easing up. That didn't last long." Rocket opened his eye and the pupil contracted to a pinpoint. "What does my pupil look like? Is it small?"

Groot grunted the affirmative.

"Great. That means I got it right. It's going to sting a lot when you first put it in, but it won't hurt for long. I dunno how bad it's gonna feel to you. Think you can handle the sting?"

"I am Groot."

"Okay. I better get a dropper sometime. Right now, try dipping the stirrer in the beaker and drip a drop on each eye. Let's do it dry first."

Rocket shook all the liquid off the stirring tool and passed it to Groot. He hopped onto his knee and physically guided him through the act of moving the stirrer between the beaker and his eye.

"Just like that. Got it?"

Groot tried to put the drops in himself. He really did. His hands weren't finding the mark, and he got drops everywhere on his face except for his eyes. Then Rocket took over after Groot handed him the stirrer.

He wasn't kidding about the sting! Groot recoiled violently backwards, clawing at the flames he imagined spreading over his whole head. Rocket caught his hands before the clawing motions got a chance to become punching.

"Hang on, Groot!" He had to shout over Groot's screeching, "I promise it'll stop stinging! Hang on! Listen- I'm gonna count to ten. It should stop when I get to ten, okay? One, two, three..."

Focusing on the numbers helped Groot calm down. The sting faded by the time he heard Rocket say _ten_. Exactly as promised. He opened his eyes. His pupils contracted smaller than usual. The sky outside was no longer bright gray with faint swirls. It had varying shades of gray that looked like lace.

"Ahaha! What'd I tell ya? It worked!" Rocket beamed. He looked at a clear cube with red, green, purple and yellow symbols lighting the cube faces, edges and corners. "Let's see, it's about fourteen-ten. Okay. Remember fourteen-ten. That's what time it is. I want to see how long those drops last for you compared to me."

"I am Groot?"

"What's in it? Uh..." Rocket resumed mixing. "The drops are carbamylcholine. It's a parasympathomimetic that stimulates muscarinic and nicotinic receptors. In topical ocular and intraocular administration its main effects are miosis and increased aqueous humour outflow."

Those were a ton of complicated words, many of which Groot hadn't heard before. Not even through a No-Walkie's taproots.

When Rocket saw how the complicated words went right over Groot's head, he broke the information down. "The drops trick your irises into contracting."

Now that made sense! Why didn't he just say that to begin with?

Rocket took it a step further by explaining all the techno babble he used. Groot appreciated it- back on Halfworld, people saw him fail after multiple ineffective drills and assumed he was too stupid to learn anything complex.

"I am _Groot_."

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome." Rocket grumbled and grabbed the beaker again. "Those bastards really didn't know how to teach you anything."

He smirked at Groot's disgusted frown. Then he focused on the chemicals as he mixed more together.

Moments later, the wind gusted harder and carried the scent of petrichor. Groot focused on the alleyway outside when he heard a distinct splat-splat sound. Dark circles the size of his fingertips speckled the gray asphalt. A few at first, but those few grew in number as the downpour arrived with a decisive whoosh. He listened to it roar over the roof and ping off a metal dumpster. The rain fell so hard that it created its own wind and formed a cool mist just above the ground.

Rocket stopped swirling the contents in the beaker and squinted at the door. He wore the same curious look he had the first time he saw stars with his own two eyes.

Groot did a complete somersault in his haste to scramble outside. A huge grin lit his face. He threw his head back, stretched his palms towards the sky and let the downpour paint the planet's history on his bark. Every raindrop splattered and dripped and dribbled and left cool trails in its wake. These droplets told Groot stories about how they nourished forests, gave animals a drink, formed dew on flowers, danced on ocean waves, hissed off waterfalls, made sparkles on windows, blew on the wind, flew high in the sky, were part of rainbows- and now, after all that, they were falling onto him. They deserved to be celebrated for their service to the planet and he would carry their stories with him forever.

"I am Groot!" He jumped and flapped his hands, excitedly beckoning Rocket outside. " **I AM GROOT!** "

"Tch, fine."

Rocket pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the wagon. Watching him sniff the air and step so tentatively on the soaked concrete reminded Groot that he never saw rain before. Such newness towards something other people grew up around was a jarring reminder of Halfworld's cruelty.

But Groot considered it an honor to be the one who introduced Rocket to the all-encompassing beauty of rain.

He knelt, gently grasped Rocket's wrists and showed him how to turn his hands palms-up. Then he led him outside under the cool deluge, which almost instantly soaked his fur. He straightened again and resumed waving his hands among the falling drops.

Rocket, by contrast, stood completely still. He licked some raindrops off his snout and wiped both hands backwards over the top of his head as if bathing.

"Kinda feels like a shower," he said.

"I am _Groot?_ "

"Yeah." A smile crept onto Rocket's face. He leaned back, closed his eyes and stretched his arms forward. "It's beautiful."

Beaming, Groot faced the steady stream rushing through the gutter in the middle of the alley. He got down on his hands and knees to study the criss-crossing lines of turbulence as the water swished across imperfections in the cement underneath.

Rocket joined him on the other side of the gutter. "What're you gawking at?"

Groot honestly intended to gesture. Instead, his hand slapped straight down in the gutter. Water splashed Rocket's legs.

"Oh, so that's how it is?"

Rocket jumped into the gutter and the splatter hit Groot square in the face. He pointed and guffawed. Laughing, Groot struck the water with both hands. They spent several minutes cackling and splashing each other in the pouring rain.

Groot crouched and gestured at his shoulder. He straightened again after Rocket clambered on.

Rain was beautiful, but sharing it with Rocket made it special.

.o

 _Present day_...

Weight returned as the antigravity generators slowly went offline. Groot's spores remained more or less airborne. The tears he and Rocket shed together sprinkled the ground like raindrops.

Rocket wiped his face several times to erase the evidence of his weeping. It took him a moment to regain his shaken composure.

"That was nice and all, but what're you gonna do someday when I'm not around anymore?"

Groot clicked his teeth and tapped the side of his own head. " **I...** **am** Groot."

Rocket's tail twitched. He squinted and scratched his chin, a gesture of deep thought.

"Fine. Let's do something stupid and memorable. Funny stories are the best kind, right?"

A big, silly grin appeared on Groot's face. He curled his fingers near his mouth and rumbled low in his throat. That was closest he got to an actual giggle.

"Yeah, yeah. I've got an idea." Rocket winked one eye shut and pointed behind him with his thumb. "D'you see that paintball gun mounted on the wall?"

Twenty minutes later, the High Rise hover car they rented roared into the upper atmosphere. It flew a bit shakily, like it wasn't wholly under the driver's control.

Groot sat in the driver's seat with Rocket guiding him through the mechanics of steering the vehicle. Like piloting a ship, except he operated the vehicle's accelerator and brakes with his feet, and spinning the car on a horizontal plane required turning the top of its wheel-like steering mechanism.

"Now remember, when I say floor it, pull the throttle towards us and hit the accelerator. We'll need to move fast. You got that? Repeat it back. Go step by step."

"I am Groot..."

"Yeah."

" _ **I**_ am Groot!"

"Yup."

"I _am..._ **Groot?** "

"No! That's the brake pedal!" Rocket leaned forward and held his head in his hands. "Your foot stays to the right. Wiggle your right leg. No, the other one. _That's_ your right leg. Look, it's the foot under the fuel monitor. See it? Don't cross your right leg over in front of the other one, okay? Got it? Let's go through the motions up here where the traffic bots won't ticket us."

Keep the throttle steady.

Press the gas pedal on the right side of the floor as hard as possible and pull the throttle towards himself and Rocket.

Drive straight until told to stop.

Easy!

Groot relaxed the vines containing the stolen paint gun parts and the packages of bright red paintballs he stashed on his body before they left the museum. Nobody suspected a thing when they walked out because the guards didn't notice his back wasn't covered in vines and leaves when he entered.

Rocket assembled the paint gun as Groot perfectly executed a practice run of their plan.

"Okay, okay, you got it." He grinned toothily, "You ready to cause some mayhem?"

Beaming, Groot bounced as much as the seatbelt allowed. "I am Groot!"

He let Rocket take the throttle and followed his exact instructions for manipulating the pedals. It was good practice for remembering which leg to move.

They merged into ground-level traffic near the Nova Corps headquarters building and eased towards the recreation area behind it. Watching Rocket work the steering mechanism like it was nothing almost caused Groot to miss his cue.

"There he is," hissed Rocket.

Outside, Rhomann Dey leaned against a wall with a freshly-unwrapped meat sandwich in his hands.

Rocket brought the hover car near the building and switched on the upper left blinker, feigning waiting for a break in higher air traffic. He picked up the paintball rifle, slammed the magazine full of red paintballs home and unlatched the safety near the trigger.

"Okay, Groot, take the wheel."

Groot reached around Rocket and grasped the steering mechanism exactly like he was taught.

Rocket unbuckled the seatbelt. He stood up, eased the barrel of the paintball gun over the edge of the vehicle's door and shouted, "Hey, Dey! How about wearing some red instead of blue?"

"What the..." Rhomann looked up just in time to have his sandwich shot clean out of his hands. Rocket cackled and squeezed the trigger four more times, covering the hapless man's hair, face and blue uniform in red paint. The shocked Nova Corps officer's mouth dropped open, and a final sixth shot splattered paint on his teeth.

"Groot, floor it!"

Groot stomped on the accelerator and held the steering mechanism steady. The hover car roared across four lanes of traffic as Rocket dropped the paintball rifle on the vehicle floor. He hurriedly buckled the seatbelt and took the wheel. Flicking a switch released the pedals and they slid up within reach of his feet again. Another adjustment turned off the blinker. The High Rise rocked in the air without losing speed while he stabilized it.

"Dude, did you see his face?" Rocket laughed raucously. "Did you see his stupid fucking face?"

"I _am_ GROOT!" Now Groot could laugh with him. He saw everything- from the way Rhomann's eyes crossed to how downright furious he looked about getting a mouthful of paint and losing his sandwich.

Sirens shrieked in the distance. Groot switched on the rear cameras. Nova Corps Star Blasters were in pursuit.

"Let's see how this baby flies," Rocket said. He rippled his fingers on the wheel and yanked the throttle forward.

Groot swore his stomach touched his brain. Rocket hooted in delight as he spun the vehicle straight down, swerved under a bridge, soared up between two large loading cranes and dove back down under the mid-level air traffic.

"Aaaaahhhhahaha! This bucket can _move!_ "

They lost the Star Blasters...at least temporarily. Groot couldn't be sure because all the sudden directional shifts had him disoriented. What were up, down, sideways and diagonal again?

Rocket doubled back after passing over the space port. Travelers ducked or scattered when the High Rise shrieked mere feet from the loading platform. They got a second scare from the Star Blasters following behind.

"This is _living!_ " Rocket howled. "How many are chasing us?"

Groot focused on the view screen. " **I** AMGroot!"

"Only six? Tch, they're getting lazy."

Rocket pressed on the accelerator, twirled the wheel and pulled the throttle back. The vehicle went skyward. Not far behind, the Star Blasters followed. He let them get close...and suddenly dove through high level air traffic. The Star Blasters had to separate or risk crashing into civilians.

"I am GROOT!" Groot bellowed at a random motorist.

"Scrotum hats! AHAHA! Yeah, tell 'em, Groot!" yelled Rocket.

Groot shouted vulgarities at every vehicle he saw as Rocket zipped past a sparkly spindle-shaped building. He laughed in delight- this was _fun!_

But all fun came to an end eventually.

Rocket dodged more traffic and skirted under a bridge. Four additional Star Blasters cut him off before he could ascend again. The six pursuing from behind prevented doubling back. Golden tractor beams locked the High Rise in position.

Groot looked around, uneasy. " _I_ am _Groot?_ "

"Yeah, we're done fuckin' with 'em." Rocket smirked, easing his hands off the steering mechanism. "It's worth it. Totally worth it. Let's put our hands up and cooperate."

A half hour later, they erupted in hilarity as a paint-stained Rhomann activated their holding cell's force field. He glowered disapprovingly, which only increased the noise level of their mirth.

"Dey, I'm really and truly sorry-" Rocket's voice squeaked when his straight face failed, "-that I didn't empty all twelve rounds on your douche bag face!"

"You jerks won't be laughing when you see the fine and bail you idiots incurred," Rhomann grumbled. Paint flecks fell off his hair as he scratched his head.

But Rocket's amusement wasn't deterred. His eyes flashed and he threw his head back. He was being totally obnoxious, and totally _hilarious!_

" _ **I**_ _am_ Groot," Groot said.

"Bwahaha! You tell 'im, Groot!"

Rhomann cocked his head. "What the...?"

Rocket oh-so-helpfully translated, "He said your wife is gonna think you kissed a Krylorian."

"My wife _is_ Krylorian," said Rhomann. He folded his arms and scowled. It was impossible to take him seriously when red paint still streaked his face, arms and clothes despite his attempts to clean it off.

Groot and Rocket blinked at each other. What were the odds? Then they cracked up all over again. Neither noticed Rhomann storming away.

Seeing Rocket laugh so openly planted joy in Groot's heart. Especially because he remembered a moment where he feared never hearing that sound again.

.o

 _Four years ago_...

Dim white street lamps came on outside as darkness blanketed the alley. Rain continued to fall, a typical late spring storm that smelled delightful.

Groot ate more of the sweet bread and bits of salad. His eyes drooped from sleepiness. All the walls he built up against external sensory stimuli were crumbling. He needed to sleep.

Rocket hopped down after a long drink from the drinking fountain. His fur was mostly dry, but he left his shirt off anyway to keep it as clean as possible.

"We're gonna need units if we're gonna survive a long time," said Rocket. "The people around here are stupid, so picking their pockets should be easy."

" **I** am _**Groot?**_ "

"Yep. It's against the law and we'll get arrested if we're caught."

" _I_... am Groot." Groot frowned.

"Halfworld was an ultra-maximum security prison-lab." Rocket yawned, baring all of his sharp teeth. "If we can escape from there, we can escape from anything. I just- eh, don't worry about it. Get some sleep, Groot."

A yawn struck Groot in response to seeing Rocket do it. He leaned on the wall behind him and shut his eyes. Hearing rain patter outside eased him to sleep.

Unidentifiable noises brought him slowly into awareness. The rain had stopped, leaving its scent and humidity behind. He wasn't sure how much time had passed. His eyes stayed shut and his ears zeroed in on the weird noise.

Silence. Gurgling. Silence. More gurgling.

Groot opened his eyes. Rocket lay on his right side in the middle of a large puddle that stunk of urine. His arms rested straight out in front of him, his legs pointed downward and his rolled-back eyeballs stared into nothing. Even stranger, his chin was down on his chest. He never slept like that. Spittle soaked the fur on his chest and cheek. White froth clung to his teeth as he sucked air wetly through them. It sounded just like snoring mixed into a death rattle, except the rattle came on inhale instead of exhale. His gums and lolled-out tongue looked pale white. They were supposed to be pink.

Horrified, Groot moved Rocket off the puddle, turned him over to let him dry off and shook his shoulder. Gentle shakes at first, then harder. No response, Rocket flopped limply and continued to gurgle-snore. Groot could've sworn he saw something like this before, yet in his fear the only image he conjured was watching Jormin die after Rocket beat him to a pulp.

Groot slapped the back of his own head in attempt to keep his fear under control. He wiped the foam off Rocket's mouth, sat down next to him and stroked his wet fur.

Was he sick? Dying?

Tears welled in Groot's eyes at the thought. Rocket meant everything to him. More than even that- Rocket saved him from Halfworld's horrors and took him to a world where he didn't know who to trust. Life without him sounded terrifyingly unthinkable.

"I am _Groot,_ " Groot pleaded for a response. A twitch. Anything. He resorted to shouting in Rocket's ear, "I am _GROOT!_ I am _**GROOT!**_ "

Sharp pain jabbed his chest. It reverberated into the pit of his stomach. He bashed his forearm against the side of his head to make the internal agony bearable. His low-pitched wails echoed off the unforgiving tiles. Glancing at Rocket sent panic through his system like lighting.

Groot stood up, pressed his forehead against the smooth wall beside the inner restroom door and slammed his fists into his cheeks. Sap tears spilled off his face. He screeched and beat himself until his head and fingers throbbed. Controlled physical pain subjugated mental pain, which allowed clearer thinking.

Rocket had to be freezing lying in a draft while soaked in his own urine. Drying off wouldn't do any good if he caught a chill. Who wanted to feel cold in their last moments?

Groot dumped all the food in his cloth sack into the wagon. He threw it on the floor and laid Rocket on it with his dry side up. Rocket gave no response to being moved. His tongue and gums looked pinker. Peoples' mouths changed colors when they were dying, didn't they?

Groot curled around Rocket, his body a shield against the breeze coming through the doorway. He stroked Rocket's fur and tried to smooth out all the ruffles. Tears blurred everything as he thanked him for being his best friend, promised to remember him and murmured how sorry he was that he couldn't make him better.

Then he selfishly begged Forever not to take Rocket away because he wasn't ready to lose him. His need thrummed as a deep, desperate plea from the core of his heart.

Forever heard him.

And it _listened_.

Gradually, the rasping breaths grew quieter. Less gurgle, more normal breathing. Regular breathing transformed into pained moans and quiet sobs. A bad dream, maybe? Groot kept petting Rocket, offering comfort.

Rocket's eyes blinked and moved. The crying ceased. Suddenly, he fought his way out of Groot's arms. He wriggled his soaked shorts off, squatted and pooped on the floor. Afterward, he grabbed the shorts and laid them over the mess he made. He sniffed his urine puddle and covered that with the empty cloth sack. Then he shook himself like he did after coming in from the rain earlier.

Groot extended a hand. Rocket blinked at it, turned away and stumbled towards the outer restroom door like he couldn't remember how to walk on two legs. His claws scraped loudly against the cement. He dropped to all fours and tried to grab a crack in the floor. Being unable to pick it up confused him.

"I am _Groot?_ " Groot excitedly hopped to his feet, his earlier misery nearly forgotten in an instant. He laughed, telling Rocket he was silly to joke around like that.

Rocket hissed and darted outside into the darkness of night. How he moved that fast on limbs that seemed uncoordinated and floppy defied logic.

Groot froze in the doorway as if a force field adhered his feet to the floor. All his elation collapsed like a star's core during a supernova. Earlier, Rocket told him not to go outside without him unless the bar was exploding or burning down. That made it sound like something very bad might happen if Rocket wasn't there to stop it.

Halfworld people didn't make that rule, Rocket did. Rocket didn't create rules without a good reason.

And Rocket had already fled out of sight.

Emptiness expanded behind Groot's back. Darkness stretched out before his eyes. He stood in the restroom doorway because everything else disappeared. No universe, no planets, no stars, no anything. Only the ground immediately under his feet and the rectangular doorway framing him remained real.

He never felt more alone in his life.

.o

 _Present day_...

"I can't leave you jerks alone for a minute, can I?" Quill grumbled as Groot and Rocket walked out of the deactivated holding cell. "Assaulting a Nova Corps officer, reckless driving and theft? You're so lucky I'm able to post your bail and keep your sorry butts out of the Kyln. I ain't gonna pay the fine, that's on you guys."

Rocket threw his hands up. "Nobody got hurt and I was gonna give the paintball gun back to the museum afterward!"

Quill covered his mouth and coughed. It had a noticeable chunky squeak. "Oh, like _that_ makes it better?"

Groot deadpanned, "I am Groot."

"I'm not boring, you're boring!" Quill said back, frowning. He was getting better at understanding, but still wasn't quite perfect at it. "Bailing your wooden ass out is boring! I thought you knew better than this, Groot."

"I _am_ Groot."

"Whatever you say, _dad_ ," Rocket repeated what Groot said. "Look, how much was the bail? I'll pay you back."

Quill shook his head. He spread his arms, bent his elbows and held his hands palms-out at shoulder level, a gesture that meant he wasn't saying anything on the issue. "We're leaving. Now."

"Ugh, whatever." Rocket climbed onto Groot's shoulder.

Late afternoon sunlight shone into the door they stepped through. Long shadows stretched across the ground. No sunset colors painted the clouds yet.

Quill's demeanor changed instantly after they stepped outdoors. He cough-laughed, stopped and faced them.

"Okay, you guys, I saw Dey trying to get pick the paint out of his hair and... Damn. That was hilarious. Just...don't do it again, okay?"

Groot froze, confused and scared by the sudden shift. Which emotion was the real one?

Rocket noticed the pause and mumbled in his ear, "Quill had to act angry to make it look good when he bailed us out. He's not gonna turn on us, Groot. You're fine. We're fine."

He patted the back of Groot's head to prompt him into walking again. They rounded the corner where the _Milano_ waited on the launch pad. Score marks and missing paint showed where repairs took place near the engines and behind the cockpit.

Rocket's muscles tensed as they always did when he felt nervous or excited. The casual swish of his tail indicated excitement. He was a coiled spring brimming with energy.

Quill climbed into the hatch in the bottom of the _Milano_. He stopped to cough yet again.

Groot peered up at the clouds. They were turning pink against the darkening blue sky. He smiled, continued inside and poked Quill's left shoulder to ask if he changed his _Esonophite_ patch.

"Yeah, right before I came and got you." Quill responded as if Groot spoke aloud. "The weather guy said the pollen count is up. That's why I keep-" he coughed, "-doing that. Give it an hour and I'll be fine."

"Hey, Quill, how long 'til we meet up with Kraglin?"

Quill glanced back at Rocket. "It'll take us about twelve hours to rendezvous with the Quadrant."

"What about the set-up?"

"All done. I told Drax and Gamora to hang out on the flight deck. I'll join 'em to minimize the distractions. Don't worry."

Confusion knit Groot's brow. Their conversation had no context for him to draw upon. Maybe it wasn't important. He ducked into the ship's interior and the hatch closed with a decisive hiss behind him. Quill made good on his declaration by rounding the corner. His footsteps bumped up the stairs to the flight deck and the engines hummed.

Groot paused by the rear viewport because takeoffs were fun. He remembered being small enough to sprawl on the central panel and make-believe himself flying away like a kite in the wind.

Rocket slid off Groot's shoulder and leaned his forehead against the glass. His breath fogged it when he sighed.

They watched the ocean shrink away. Sunlight sparkles on the day-side seawater became a general blur. Then Xandar itself retreated into the distance like a bauble suspended in blackness.

Grinning, Groot patted the viewport and turned around. The living space looked oddly clean. No bleach smells- everything had a vague turpentine scent that wasn't at all unpleasant.

"C'mon, Groot." Rocket nodded towards the kitchen area. "Follow me."

Groot focused on Rocket's ringed tail while he followed him. Rocket detoured past the kitchen table. He went towards a red curtain pulled across what used to be an empty walk-in storage compartment. Once there, he turned to look up at Groot.

"This is part two of your Freedom Day present." Rocket's ears twitched self-consciously. "Look, you always give me great stuff and, um...well, shit, Groot, I wanted to give something back for once."

Rocket pulled the curtain aside. Groot noticed the bag of Xandarian apples in the corner first because it was familiar. Everything else entered his awareness next.

The walls and floor within the compartment were covered with some sort of dark red mats. Wait, no, not purely dark red. They had beautiful fractal patterns silk-screened onto their surfaces. Groot's mouth fell open. He stared at the upper corner of the space, letting his peripheral vision take it all in. That's when he noticed the array of light brown bamboo wind chimes arranged in a circle around the ceiling air vent.

"I _am_ Groot?" Groot pulled his attention off the ceiling and tapped the floor mat with his foot. It felt similar to his rubbery red chew tube. The only difference was it had less give.

"It's a sensory space. Here..." Rocket went inside and smacked the floors and walls with his fists. "You can bang your head and thrash around all you want without cracking your bark open. C'mon, sit here and feel it out."

Groot did. He plopped gracelessly onto the floor mat, laughing at the thump-poof. There was enough room to sit with his legs stretched out or stand up and spread both arms wide. The mats on the walls reached the ceiling. He curled his knees to his chest and rocked backwards as hard as he could. His head practically bounced off the wall padding. Great impact, no injury and minimal pain.

All around him, fractals. Some looked like lightning. Others formed spirals. They were beautiful pieces of Forever that he could fall into for hours.

A small lump welled in his throat. Rocket did all _this_ for him?

"I... _AM_ Groot..."

"That ain't all, ya idiot." Rocket's nervousness melted away. He leaned on the wall. "See that seam in the floor mat by your feet? Flip that section up."

Curious, Groot pulled part of the mat upward and found several square cubbyholes in the floor. They contained all the sensory gadgets he acquired as he grew back from a sapling.

The light-up egg that slowly turned colors. Piles of plain red bean bags small enough to fit in his hands. A vibrating silver ball. Several sealed test tubes full of glittery water in various colors. The stethoscope from Rocket's hospital stay. Wooden blocks in varying shapes, sizes and colors for lining up or stacking. His mandala coaster collection. The rainbow top Gamora bought him. All the clear coils Drax gave him for chewing on. Solid, clear plastic glitter rings big enough to fit on his wrists like bracelets. Two had a nubby texture and two were smooth. That silly handheld video game from Quill, an item that kept him entertained during his rough adolescence. Two large containers of smooth pebbles and beads that proved fun to shake and bury his hands in. Three red chew tubes- one for here, one for when he went out with anyone besides Rocket and an extra backup in case anything happened to the other tubes.

He reached for a smooth chew ring and stuck it in his mouth. This space had so much to take in. Distracting his mind a little bit became the only way to avoid being overwhelmed by information. He stared upward, letting everything assemble in his mind.

"One more thing," Rocket spoke when Groot's eyes moved to look around again. "Here, gimme your hand."

Groot let Rocket lead his hand to a dimly lit touch screen panel adjacent to the entryway.

"You put your finger at the bottom left corner. Yeah. Now swipe it right like this-" Rocket showed him which direction to slide his hand. "And you have light walls. Just like the light wall in the science museum, except smaller."

Tiny pinpricks of white light appeared on the wall padding. Fiber optic cables. They looked like stars reproduced in miniature. They shifted through every color of the spectrum. With Rocket's guidance, he discovered he could control the speed and brightness. Additional settings let him control individual panels.

Trails of brightness and starbursts happened if he tapped a wall pad or rubbed his fingers across it. Oh, yeah, definitely an exact replica of the museum light wall!

"I _am_ Groot!" Groot told Rocket how beautiful it looked.

"Yeah, ain't it?" Rocket crouched to show him a similar touch-swipe, except this required sliding his finger in a circle. "Here. You can operate the air vent the same way. Just choose air on the screen."

Groot immediately opened the air vent all the way, causing the bamboo chimes above him to clatter hollowly in a variety of tonal frequencies. They didn't grate across his brain the way metal chimes did.

He curled up on his side on the floor, his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. His mind zoomed him into the colorful fractal pattern while soothing clunks sounded above him. He sucked on the chew ring and hummed contentedly. All the affection he felt when he opened his Xandarian apples came back even stronger than before.

Rocket couldn't make the whole universe tolerable to Groot, so he changed a tiny piece of it for him instead. This space, built just for _him_ , felt safe and welcoming. What made it intensely special was Rocket expected nothing in return.

"Happy Freedom Day, Groot." Rocket's voice cracked when he said it.

"I _**am**_ Groot."

Groot moved look Rocket in the eyes, but Rocket had already slipped around the curtain. His silhouette remained for a moment. He wiped at his face and quietly walked away.

"So, does he like it?" Quill's voice sounded distant even though the kitchen table was barely fifteen feet away.

"Yep, he's stimming up a storm in there," Rocket answered. He sounded happy. "Hey, Drax, the chimes are a hit!"

Delight entered Drax's voice. "Groot always approached them when we visited that shop. The cashier was quite pleased with the large purchase when I explained the reason."

Gamora crackled something that tore open. The curtain muffled the sound, so Groot listened hard to guess the source. Probably a small bag of Krylorian pickle chips. They were dried, paper-thin dark pink pickle slices baked in an intolerably spicy black _ibasaw_ powder.

She asked, "Is the curtain an effective sound barrier?"

"Mmhmm." Rocket confirmed the pickle crisps when a distinct low-pitched crunch preceded his words. "Good call on- whew!- good call on the soundproofing cloth. It muffled a lot of stuff."

Gamora made no surprised noises when she ate a chip. She liked spicy things. The hotter, the better.

"Is the storage space in the floor okay?" asked Quill.

"Yup," answered Rocket. "Gah, these chips are murder! Gimme one more."

"So all is well? This is cause for a celebratory supper!" Drax exclaimed.

Groot tore himself away from his sensory space to greet the others with a broad, joyful smile. Gamora saw him first. She smiled back. He wished she would do it more often, she had a pretty smile.

The Zune thing Quill used to play music had quite a variety of songs. Quill still used the tape player when it worked properly, but the Zune device had no moving parts at all.

Rocket sang along to the catchy music playing softly through the _Milano's_ speakers. " _Mmmbop, ba duba dop ba do bop, ba duba dop ba do bop, ba duba dop ba do, yeah yeah!_ " Between choruses, he grumbled, "This is the most annoying song ever, and who the hell calls a band 'Hanson?'"

Groot shrugged at Rocket's question while making noises that somewhat followed the nonsensical chorus. He noticed Gamora subtly tapping her foot. In the kitchen, Drax completely ignored everyone else. Quill chuckled and lip-synched dramatically until the song ended. Michael Jackson's _Thriller_ came on next.

"Groot," Quill said with a grin, "Let's dance!"

Groot slapped both fists onto the table and followed Quill to the roomier floor space near a bulkhead. Gamora sighed audibly. She was so used to this that she didn't need to comment on the utter immaturity anymore.

Drax returned carrying a pot of something cold that smelled delicious. He paused to watch the scene unfold.

 _Thriller_ had a very important dance routine. Quill taught Groot every move when he was still a sapling. Now Groot knew it well enough to perform it whenever, wherever. Music made his body cooperate with his brain in ways it never did outside of dancing.

But Groot did not expect Rocket to learn the same moves. Having him join the ridiculous tandem dance routine made it even better.

"This song makes them lose their minds," Drax said to Gamora. A frown knit his brow. "Is it some sort of hypnosis that is not affecting us?"

"No," Gamora smirked, "they're just obnoxious."

"Don't pretend you don't like it, Gams," Rocket teased.

Drax set the pot by the flower bowl in the middle of the table and left to retrieve proper eating utensils. His problem wasn't that he couldn't dance. In fact, he could copy any dance move he saw. He had amazing rhythm in a fight...and zero rhythm with music. Trying to dance embarrassed him. He wasn't someone who got embarrassed easily.

 _Thriller_ came to an end. Groot faced Quill and extended both hands palms-up. Quill raised his eyebrows and brought his palms downward to slap their hands together. He turned his own hands palms-up and Groot repeated the same movement. Giving ten was a more celebratory version of giving five. A strange custom...but Groot liked it. He faced Rocket and they gave each other ten as well.

Groot sat at the table and held a hand out to Gamora. She chuckled, shook her head and gave him five. Then she slid his data pad towards him.

"How is your celebration going?" she asked.

Excited, Groot had to rock and flail his hands until they cooperated enough to type. Gamora waited patiently while he settled and slid his left index finger around the touch screen keyboard. His grin expressed the emotion the data pad's robotic voice couldn't convey.

 **It is the bests Freedoms Days yet. We has lots of fun!**

"Hmm." She eyed him suspiciously, "Does that fun include a live broadcast of a hover car chase?"

Rocket got a dust rag out of a drawer and hooted. "Of course! It ain't Freedom Day if we don't mess with somebody, right, Groot?"

"I _**am**_ _Groot!_ " Groot agreed.

Drax returned and began dishing out the cold soup he mixed together. It had a lot of fruit steeped in pale purple juice. Seeing it reminded Groot of the fruity drink he shared with Rocket earlier.

"Won't misbehavior like that result in harm to our reputation as heroes?" asked Drax.

"Nah," Rocket wrinkled his snout. He sat between Drax and Quill at the table, which put him across from Gamora and Groot. "We didn't do any permanent damage to anything except Dey's pride."

Groot snickered as Quill slurped a mouthful of the cold soup.

"Whoa, Drax, what's this? It's good."

Brief softness passed through Drax's bright blue eyes. "A cold summer soup. Xandar's summer will begin soon and my family welcomed summer with this meal. I felt it is a worthy tradition to continue now that I have a family again."

Upon hearing that, Groot gingerly picked up a spoon and took a bite. The sweetness tasted full of hot sun, pink sunset clouds, soft grass under feet, hands gathering flowers, sparkles on water and the laughter exchanged between a father, mother and child. Like Quill's pancakes, this soup let Groot taste the love Drax felt for his deceased wife and daughter.

He saw Drax look at the red flower in the bowl centered on the table and flash a brief, sad smile. Drax was a man able to be so amazingly open, yet filled with secrets still unrevealed.

"Hm, not bad." Rocket picked his bowl up and slurped. "Seriously, not bad."

He was the last to start eating and finished first. Then, eager to polish his gun, he sat in the middle of the floor where he joined the _Thriller_ performance. He picked up the dust cloth, eyed the shiny new scope Groot gave him and worked the cloth over the metal underneath it.

"How are the engines?" Gamora asked after a moment's silence.

Quill clinked his spoon in the bowl. "Still a little rough. I found the leak that kept messing everything else up."

Drax arched a brow. "Does this mean you eliminated the deplorable smell in the bathroom?"

"Yup."

"Good. I'm weary of being blamed for it." Drax looked pointedly at Rocket.

"What?" Rocket spread his hands and shrugged, "Your turds smell so bad they curl Gamora's hair."

"Hm, you tell no lies there. I have famously odiferous turds."

 **And cacophonous farts.** Groot typed. Finally, he got to use that big word about noise!

Rocket snorted at that. Drax subtly rocked back and forth, his nostrils flaring as he barely maintained a straight face. Quill sprayed a mouthful of soup into his own bowl. Unlike Drax, his attempt to hide his laughter utterly failed. Groot snickered- making Quill laugh fluid out of his face never got old.

Gamora rubbed her temples in annoyance and sipped politely off her spoon. "Immaturity aside, Drax, this is delicious."

"Thank you."

Groot held his bowl out for seconds, ate that and stood up. He took his data pad with him when he sat by Rocket on the floor.

"I am Groot?"

"Nah, not taking it apart," Rocket said, "I'm shining it up to match my awesome new scope."

Somebody named Seal crooned about being kissed by a rose. Rocket hum-sang along. Humming indicated happiness. The scope made him happy.

Delighted, Groot slapped his fists against his knees. He focused on Quill telling Drax and Gamora about arriving at Nova Corps to post bail. Not because he wanted to; their voices were louder than the music.

The Seal song concluded and the really sad one about dust in the wind began. Rocket turned his head to the left, looking over his shoulder at Quill, Gamora and Drax. He tilted his face upward as if watching something drift from the wall to the ceiling above him. Groot realized what was happening when Rocket's pupils dilated and his eyes rolled back. The whites formed brilliant crescents against his dark fur. A frightened grimace flattened his whiskers against his snout and pinned his ears back. He swatted the air near his nose with his left hand. A jerky motion, like touching a hot stove.

Groot calmly pushed Rocket's gun aside, took the dust rag from his grasp and set the timer on his data pad for five minutes. Then he laid Rocket on his right side where he could see his face, cupped one hand under his right shoulder and cradled his head against his forearm. No fear or franticness entered his actions. He hyper-focused on the situation in a way that blocked everything else out.

Rocket's right knee bent towards his torso. Tension wound down his body like a spiral. He stretched both arms above his head and dipped his chin to his chest. The air in his lungs escaped as a pained croaking noise that grew into a groan. His arms lowered almost mechanically to point straight ahead with both fists crooked inward and his legs unfolded in a forward position. Tremors raced along his frame, the result of muscles flexing at their maximum capacity. It grew more obvious when he arched his back until his body mimicked a sickle.

Groot promised Rocket that he wasn't getting punished for this. He rubbed his ears to comfort him and started emitting soft, regular hums. Rocket's tail bristled and his trembling transitioned into rhythmic jerks caused by his muscles synchronously contracting and relaxing. His extended arms bobbed at first, then swung inward, his legs kicked downwards after cocking backwards and his torso straightened out before making sideways twist-ripple motions.

Having a hand under Rocket's shoulder prevented a repeated impact injury and kept him safely on his side. Groot came up with this position all on his own. It let him monitor the tension in Rocket's muscles and move with him when necessary.

"...so he was covered in red-" Quill glanced over and sprang off his chair so fast it spun completely around. "Oh shit! Rocket's having a seizure!"

The others gasped and followed him. Their hurried footsteps slammed through Groot's ears like explosions.

"Rabies!" Drax exclaimed. He withdrew several steps, a pained look crossing his face. "Groot, you must move away from him before he bites you!"

"How can we help?" Gamora got the closest and started to kneel at Groot's side.

No time for social niceties. Groot bent protectively over Rocket's writhing form, bore his teeth and sprouted six inch thorns off his shoulders. His low-pitched warning growl vibrated the air. An unsettling sound people felt more than heard. Even Rocket admitted to being intimidated by it. And if the growl didn't get the point across, his unblinking stare would. He was in control of this situation and he wasn't letting anyone take it from him.

"Drax, it's not ra- whoa." Quill jumped back.

"Groot isn't alarmed. I think that is enough reason for us to stay calm," Gamora added pointedly. She moved next to Quill without asking further questions.

Groot's thorns didn't retract until they were all more than an arm's length away. He refused to acknowledge their presence again because his undivided attention needed to stay on Rocket.

White froth poured off Rocket's snout in thick strings. Most of it coated his shirt and Groot's wrist. Oxygen deprivation turned his gums pale white. He hadn't taken a breath since he tensed up, but hearing his teeth click and the slosh of his tongue flopping around in his mouth signaled a turning point.

Groot lifted Rocket's chin away from his chest. Rocket made snorting noises punctuated by barely audible grunts. His head swung side to side, cushioned from harm by Groot's forearm, and his fists bounced against his stomach as his body thrashed like a flag in the wind.

"I am Groot." Groot murmured that it was almost over. He rubbed Rocket's upturned hip and reminded him again that nobody would punish him for this.

Rocket's body gave six extremely violent jerks. Just like that, the paroxysm ended. He lay wide-eyed and motionless in the aftermath. His shallow breathing slowed to deep, stertorous slurps that matched the rhythm Groot hummed earlier.

Okay, breathing was a good thing. Gums turning from white to pink were also a good thing. Everybody seeing Rocket empty his very full bladder in his pants _wasn't_ a good thing! That was a private act!

Groot threw the dust cloth over Rocket's legs and sat on the spreading puddle. He waited for the warmth to stop flowing before moving him a few inches away from it. The serious situation didn't let him notice Quill's grossed-out expression.

"I am- _Groot_." Groot told Rocket he was sorry that everybody saw him pee, reminded him that he wasn't going to get punished and promised not to leave him until he fully regained consciousness. It didn't matter that his statement wasn't comprehended or remembered- _he_ knew what he said and he intended to stand by it.

Rocket remained insensate. Drool, more liquid and less froth, collected around his snout. His gurgle-snoring inhales sounded like a laborious struggle even though they weren't.

Quill shut the music off as the dusty wind song ended. Drax shifted uncomfortably. Gamora whispered something to them in an undertone too quiet to make out.

The data pad timer beeped. Groot forgot he set it, so he shut it off.

Now the hardest part was over. He could divide his attention. Questioning faces met him when he finally looked up at Quill, Gamora and Drax.

Groot reached for his data pad. At Rocket's request, he prepared a pre-programmed explanation in case this happened. Three touches of his fingertip allowed him to explain everything.

.o

 _Four years ago_...

Pale gray crept into the sky's damp blackness. Rocket scrambled onto the brick wall across the alley when the street lamps started shutting off. He was still naked and had draped himself in a large, dirty white cloth to keep warm. The first of Xandar's three suns rose. He squinted when its warm rays illuminated his face.

Groot couldn't wait for Rocket to get down. He lassoed him with a network of vines, yanked him close and hugged his small, furry body against his chest. The other two suns rose between the grab and yank, making everything look bright, beautiful and _okay_ again.

Rocket was soaked and looked as though he hadn't slept in weeks. Groot didn't care one iota about his bedraggled appearance. Elation bubbled in his chest like carbonation. He almost bumped his head jumping for joy because he had his best friend back!

"Groot! Oof! Ack! Ease up! Ow! What's the big deal? I- argh!"

"I- am- GROOT! I _**am**_ Groot?"

Rocket stopped squirming. "Yeah, I'm back. I'm wet because I washed off under a hose. Took me forever to get the piss outta my fur and figure out where I was. Ugh."

A faint whimper escaped Groot's throat. " _ **I**_ am **Groot?** "

"Not sure yet. I woke up in a trash can with no idea how I got there, and I feel like I ran all night."

He finally responded to the hug by laying his head against Groot's chest.

"Groot, calm down. I'm not gonna run out the door if you let me go. Can you put me down, now? I'm sore and you're not helping."

Groot knelt to set Rocket gently on his feet.

Rocket staggered towards his shorts and snatched them up. Finding feces underneath caused him to jump back in disgust.

"Shit!" He landed squarely on the soaked cloth bag. "Ugh, really? _Really?_ Now I'm pissed!"

Groot twirled a vine on his elbow with his fingers. Either that or laugh. This didn't seem like a proper time for laughter.

Rocket grabbed the only dry spot on the cloth bag, tossed it outside the outer bathroom door and curled his lips in disgust.

"I guess we're sharing one food bag from now on. Maybe- wait, no, that green shirt's too short to cover me, and this stupid rag ain't gonna work either."

" _I am_ Groot?"

"I can't put the shorts back on!" Rocket looked aghast. "They're nasty!"

" _ **I**_...am Groot."

"Oh, sure, _you_ don't wear clothes, but _you_ don't have pink junk and a pair of nuts hanging out. I need- crap, my memory is a mess. I gotta- oh, yeah, okay. Hang on...lemme try on the clothes I stole off that mannequin."

Rustling indicated Rocket rummaging in the wagon. Silence followed. He pulled on an orange shirt and longer shorts that reached past his knees. Later, he would add armor with buckles and straps. But for now, his clothes were simple.

"There. Fits kinda snug, but...ah, it ain't bad."

The orange stood out against the otherwise depressing backdrop of the bathroom. Groot liked that color. It reminded him of sunsets, autumn and warmth. He showed his approval by slapping his hands down on his knees.

" **I** am _Groot?_ " Groot finally broached the question.

"Don't remember a thing...last clear memory I've got is us being idiots in the rain." Rocket grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck like it felt sore.

Groot sat down next to Rocket rather than across from him. Cool wind wafted through the doorway. Early-morning Xandarian equipment rumbled, squeaked and hissed in the distance. The rhythm and timing cued Groot in that those sounds happened right around sunrise every day.

He rocked back and forth to the deepest rumbles, jerked his arms repeatedly forward whenever he heard crashes, rippled his fingers in front of his eyes for all the squeaks and grunted softly each time something hissed. Letting his body assign a response to those unseen, source-less sounds meant he could 'talk back' to them instead of being frightened.

A few moments of motion normalized Xandar's morning noises in his mind. Moving around shook loose last night's memory, so he simultaneously told Rocket what he saw and asked why.

" _ **I**_ **am**...Groot?"

"I wish you didn't see that, Groot. I'm sorry for scaring you. I'll explain it to you after I clean this mess up."

Rocket used the dirty shorts to pick up the poop and discard it in one of the vacuum toilets. Then he reappeared, plopped into a sitting position by the wagon and rubbed some kind of sanitizing gel on his hands. He took the last gray jerky stick out of his food bag, looked at its packaging and raised a brow.

"A-ha. These have aspartame in 'em. Artificial sweeteners are nasty. Tch, I guess sweet n' sour jerky sticks are off my menu for good."

Groot stopped moving and blinked at him. What did food have to do with this?

Rocket hurled the unopened food package outside into the alley. He rooted through all the food in his bag, checking ingredients before putting everything away again.

Now the explanation began.

"You already know I'm genetically modified, right? Well, my brain wasn't supposed to form like it did. Some of my neurons knotted up in huge clumps. Sometimes they misfire, set off a chain reaction in my whole brain and my body goes nuts. That's called a seizure."

Seizure sounded like a scary word. Groot grunted to show he understood it.

Rocket took out a piece of bread, bit into it and talked with his mouth full. "The people on Halfworld used the word autistic to describe how your brain works. There's a word for why my brain makes me have seizures. That word is-" He swallowed and his speech came out clearer, "-epilepsy."

Groot put his fingers in his mouth and gasped. " _ **I**_ _AM Groot?_ "

The amused smile Rocket flashed put him at ease again.

"I pass out, so no. I don't feel anything. I watched lab videos of what I look like when I have one. It looks painful, but it doesn't really count if I'm not 'there' enough to remember the pain. So- wait, when did you say you saw me? Was it during this?" He imitated the slurp-breathing. At Groot's nod, he said, "Yeah, you missed the 'best' part. I'll tell you about that in a minute. Lemme explain something first."

Rocket rubbed his neck again and put his bread chunk down on top of its bag. He pointed to his forehead, the back of his head and the sides of his head.

"I've got four chips inside my skull. They were put in before I was big enough to remember. They're here, here, here, and here. Jormin put 'em in because the intent was to control my mind.

"But I had some unforeseen problems when the genetic modifications kicked in. Some aliens have fluid in the ventricles of their brains. That fluid flows inside the ventricles, forms a cushion around the brain itself it bathes the spinal cord. It delivers nutrients to neurons and carries away waste. That's cerebrospinal fluid. My bloodstream is supposed to take care of it.

"Now here's the thing: Mass displaces fluid, and my brain has more mass than the norm, so the fluid started to squish my brain and triggered the first seizure I ever had. That's called hydrocephalus. Normally, that means there's too much CSF. My CSF flow is normal for my body, but it's too much for my abnormal brain.

"Jormin had to put a shunt in to lower my intracranial pressure. It's a tube that runs from inside my skull to a reservoir with a valve somebody can adjust externally. From the reservoir comes another tube going down into my abdominal cavity. The extra fluid drains there and blood vessels in the tissue encasing my lower digestive organs absorbs it. It's called a ventriculoperitoneal shunt.

"Jormin made the whole thing out of a polymer mixed with my stem cells. My body thinks the tube and shunt are part of it, so they don't show up in medical scans unless you know what to look for. The tubes grew into my brain and abdominal cavity, and they grew longer to match my body as I grew up. The reservoir merged into my skull as the bone thickened, so the chance of it failing if I hit my head are so small it's ridiculous. Here, you can feel the reservoir and tube. Put your finger here and push hard. You won't hurt me."

Rocket led Groot's fingers behind the outer edge of his right ear. The reservoir was a barely-noticeable oval bump no bigger than Rocket's palm. It felt like scarring where a fracture healed stronger than its surrounding bone. The pliable tube wasn't any wider than Groot's pinkie finger. Though Rocket said it extended between his skull and his abdomen, Groot could only feel it from behind his ear to the visible metal near his right shoulder. Something like that could easily be mistaken for a blood vessel.

Groot moved his hand away before he got tempted to touch the shiny silver metal by Rocket's shoulder. He peered momentarily at the scintillating strips and screws that didn't belong among brown fur and wondered how much that hurt every day.

"So the hydrocephalus got taken care of..." Rocket sighed, leaning back, "...but I kept having seizures after my intracranial pressure stabilized. My first seizure ended up saving my life." He scoffed, "Doesn't that sound stupid?"

It didn't sound stupid, and Groot said so. Rocket shrugged and kept talking.

"Jormin didn't want me getting brain damage after all the work he put into me, so he ran several electroencephalogram tests and imaging tests. He found the root cause of my epilepsy and modified the chips already in my head to control the seizures. I was having five seizures a day until the chips got turned on. All that happened before you met me. It was hell, but I only have a few seizures a year. That's a big improvement over five a day."

Rocket paused slap some crumbs off his pants, which gave Groot a chance to absorb the vast amounts of information.

"The chips work by firing simultaneous electrical pulses into the neuron knots at regular intervals. The pulses regulate the electricity in my brain so it doesn't fire too fast or too strong. Picture a huge, heavy door that only opens to let one person at a time through, it's like that.

"My brain's normal electrical impulses give the chips most of their power, but they weren't as effective when I hit puberty. The chips needed to pack a stronger punch. Jormin installed an implant behind my heart, and the electricity in my heartbeat supplements the brain chips. It was an experiment to see if it would work at all, and it did.

"Now here's the catch. Sometimes my heartbeat gets irregular. Premature ventricular contractions, which means the lower chambers of my heart contract too early and my heart has to pause and reset itself. They're totally harmless unless I have three in a row.

"PVC's don't allow all the chips to charge equally. They can recover from one or two in a row, but three is too many. Two things can happen. One chip gets too much power and discharges early to equalize with the others. This triggers a seizure instead of suppressing it. The second scenario is two or three chips get more power than the rest, so they pause and wait for the undercharged chips to match their charge. If one of my brain knots misfire during that pause, I'll have a seizure. They called 'em implant faults on Halfworld.

"The chips are supposed to reset automatically if I have a seizure. They calm it down again, but it takes 'em up to two minutes to reboot. You can tell when they're zapping me because my body will loosen up and shake more violently right before everything stops. The chips have to start slow and 'find' the frequency of my seizure so they don't fry my brain.

"Now, Groot, I don't care if you forget everything else. Hang on to this: If a seizure goes on longer than five minutes, or if you ever hear the words 'status epilepticus' or 'he's in status', that's when you need to worry. That means my chips aren't rebooting."

Hearing that scared Groot more than anything. All he could picture was Rocket's brain exploding! He slapped himself in the back of his head to keep utter panic at bay and asked the scariest question.

" _I_ am _Groot?_ "

"Mmhmm, a too-long seizure or back to back seizures can kill me. If the lack of oxygen doesn't do it, the strain on my heart will. But, Groot? Hey. Status is rare for me, and it's fixable. I'll be okay. I'm not gonna die from a seizure."

Rocket licked his chops and picked at his teeth with his pinkie claw.

"Which reminds me- I need to hack a Quarnyx magnet to operate my shunt valve and build a scanner to check it. I never had a problem, but it pays to be ready anyway. I also gotta scrap together an EMP generator for the chips. An EMP is the only thing that reboots the chips if they don't reboot themselves. That'll be easy once I get the parts. I ain't worried. I do pretty good by avoiding stuff that throws off my heartbeat."

The idea of Rocket's heartbeat falling out of rhythm without warning and causing a seizure sounded alarming.

"I _am_... _Groot?_ "

"Nah," Rocket finished his chunk of bread, "I don't always have three PVC's in a row. Caffeine and artificial sweeteners trigger mine, so I stay away from 'em. Aspartame is a sneaky little shit that excites activity in the brain, so me eating it is like throwing ion fuel into oxygen. Everything goes boom." He leaned back against the wall behind him, yawning. "I should've checked the jerky stick before I ate it, but I was hungry."

This was a lot of information to take in. Groot busied himself by flicking his fingers near his eyes to dispel his internal discomfort. Moving his hands ensured he stayed focused on learning. Once he calmed down, he asked what a seizure looked like.

Rocket demonstrated the initial stare, the body contortion and hand motion that signaled the beginning of a seizure. All of a sudden Groot remembered where he saw the gurgle breathing he witnessed before he watched Jormin die.

Back on Halfworld, Rav and Peth- the behavior therapists- stuck him and Rocket together in a room to see how they interacted. They turned his friendship with Rocket into a weapon by activating Rocket's shock collar and telling Groot he caused that pain to induce unquestioning compliance.

Groot didn't care what they did to him personally, yet he couldn't let them hurt Rocket. He grabbed Rocket and bolted for the door. They kept zapping him, then they zapped Rocket. All of a sudden Rocket fell out of his arms, twisted in a weird position and shook violently. The gurgling started after that.

And Groot blamed himself. It led to a silent, internal breakdown. His disobedience hurt Rocket, so he complied to protect him until Rocket staged their escape.

"...Groot?" Rocket hedged, "Are you listening?"

Grunting, Groot smacked himself on the back of the head to break out of his unpleasant recollections. He gave himself an all-over shake and mumbled an apology for zoning out.

Rocket waved it off. "As I was saying..."

He went on to explain his seizures in full detail, teaching Groot important words along the way. Groot learned what tonic-clonic and post-ictal meant.

Seizures came in many forms, though Rocket only had the tonic-clonic sort. Their effects on consciousness, behavior, movement and the body as a whole varied depending on where they began in the brain and whether or not they affected the whole brain or a small part of it. Seizures could start in a small area and spread to the whole brain. There were seizures that impaired consciousness for seconds at a time and others caused people to behave in ways that one wouldn't think of as a seizure. Some seizures were only noticed by the person having them. Things like weird sensations, unexplainable shifts in emotion and changes in sensory perception. All these seizures had names, but Groot had trouble hanging onto information not directly related to Rocket.

Auras were experiences that warned of an oncoming seizure. Not everyone had auras. Rocket didn't. His seizures hit without warning.

Epilepsy sounded like a serious, scary condition. Some people were born with it and others developed it during their lifetime. Like autism, it affected everyone's life differently. There were people lived with a lot of impairments while others showed few to no effects. People took medication for it or had surgery. Some struggled because all treatments failed to reduce or control their seizures.

Most importantly, Rocket showed Groot that it didn't need to be feared. Seizures were a thing that happened because of how Rocket's brain worked just like self-injurious meltdowns happened because of how Groot's brain worked. They weren't a moral failing, they weren't contagious and they weren't dire emergencies unless certain criteria were met.

Rocket ran seizure drills where he acted seizures out and talked Groot through every step of how they affected him. He told Groot what to do during one and how to take care of him afterward. Then he did drills without talking unless Groot needed a hint. He never insulted or belittled him for missing a step- he backed up and guided him until handling seizures became a routine as automatic as breathing.

And now that he knew exactly what to do, Groot silently swore he would protect Rocket with his life if a seizure happened in his presence.

.o

 _Present day_...

 **There you goes. That what you does when and after Rocket has a seizures. Epilepsy doesn't makes him violence or stupid. I hopes you doesn't laughs at him when he is posts-icky. He can't helps it if he makes pees in his clothes after a seizures or if he undress and gets afraid of you. He doesn't likes people to makes a big deals about his seizures because they doesn't happens often.**

Groot nodded with finality as his explanation concluded. It covered everything from the reason behind seizures, what the continuous seizures of status epilepticus looked like, when to apply an EMP pulse to reset the chips in Rocket's head, how to recognize if he needed oxygen support, proper recovery positioning and maintaining his physical safety during both the seizure and post-ictal state.

He cast the others a glance and returned all his attention to Rocket.

"Geez...my mom had seizures because of her tumor, but they didn't look like _that_." Quill peered down at his feet. "She threw up and passed out."

"You heard what Groot said. Seizures have many forms and causes," said Gamora.

She wiped the spit off Rocket's mouth with a napkin, removed her soft coat and used it to cushion his head from the hard floor. Then she got Groot to lift his butt and used a ragged old dust cloth to sop up the puddle he sat on.

Quill took care of putting away anything small enough to get pushed through his fingers if he made a fist- things Rocket could potentially swallow. Liquid chemicals also got hidden, a precaution against accidental poisoning.

Drax unsheathed his knives from their ankle sheathes and set them on the kitchen table where they couldn't be grabbed. He returned and moved his hands past Rocket's eyes. The lack of response left him visibly unsettled.

"Is he in pain?"

 **He will be when he starts to wakes up.**

Groot rocked and clenched his fists for a moment to calm himself before continuing.

 **What does you feels if you are forces to lifts up the most heavy weights your muscles lets you lifts up and then exercises with all the strengths you can musters for many hours without stops? That is what Rocket's muscles does in a shorts times when he has seizures.**

"That sounds very painful," whispered Drax. He stood up again and began clearing the dinner-related items off the table. His voice had a deep undertone of sincerity when he called back, "I hope the ensuing discomfort will be brief."

Gamora and Quill loitered nearby. Groot couldn't fault them for their concerned shifting. Seizures were _scary_ to the uninitiated. The same held true for self-injurious meltdowns.

Words like _autism_ and _self-injurious behavior_ , or _epilepsy_ and _seizure_ tended to scare people.

The best thing about ignorance regarding those things? It was curable with understanding! Understanding wiped fear away, and wiping fear away opened the door for compassion and acceptance.

This wasn't the first seizure Groot helped Rocket through. Observing him closely after each one made something clear: he only experienced the immediate _right now_. A moment ago and the next moment ceased to exist for him. Every second was a whole new beginning.

The blessing? Forgetting. Seizures were blanks in Rocket's memory. If only the same happened after his surgeries. He was given paralytics and remained awake for every single surgery as Jormin cut him open, took him apart and put him back together over and over. Being spared from remembering the misery following seizures seemed like a reprieve.

But pain didn't cease being _painful_ just because the person forgot it later.

Rocket's breathing got shallower. A long, low groan escaped his throat. He grimaced and started to cry. Not quiet sniffles with tears, but loud, coughing sobs that asked why everything hurt so much. His muddled brain could not comprehend that the acidic agony of overworked muscles on top of bone pain from skeletal implants had a beginning or an end. It was pain that had always been.

Groot repositioned Rocket on his stomach- his natural, more comfortable sleeping pose- and massaged his shoulders. Rocket splayed his arms in a W shape, seeking comfort. Groot encircled them in his huge hands and pumped gently, mimicking a heartbeat. Upper arms first, then his forearms. Increasing the blood flow meant the lactic acid in his muscles got cleaned away faster.

Rocket tucked his hands under his chin and pushed his back against Groot's hands. Groot maintained the heartbeat pattern when he rubbed his back. He would do anything to make his perpetual _now_ feel less painful.

Gamora and Quill came close again after closing cabinets and putting things on shelves. Concern etched itself across their faces. Not pity, just worry.

"Is he recovering properly?" Drax joined them.

Nodding, Groot held his index finger vertically against his own mouth, a gesture Quill used when someone was too loud. Then he typed on his data pad.

 **Rocket needs quiets after a seizures just likes I needs quiets after I has a hurts myself fits.**

Drax gave a slow blink of understanding, patted Groot's shoulder and straightened. "I am available if you need my help."

The slowing of Rocket's breathing and the quieting of his weeping indicated his pain level going down. His ears turned towards sounds when they weren't before. A good sign that pain wasn't using up all his attention anymore.

Groot murmured in Rocket's ear that he was safe and that he loved him very much. Rocket turned, licked Groot's chin and put his head down again. By then, his pupils had contracted to the proper size for the ambient lighting, but his eyes stayed unfocused. He rose onto his elbows and cocked his head to look around.

"Welcome back," Quill said when Rocket squinted at him.

"Wait." Gamora barred his way with her hand when he went to lean closer. "Groot said he isn't himself yet."

 **Gets ready,** Groot typed on his data pad, **He will wants to grabs things soon. Try not to makes sudden moves or sounds.**

Rocket struggled to stand. He tugged Groot's thumb, seeking help. Groot lifted him into a standing position and helped him stay balanced while he pulled his smelly, wet clothes off. How Rocket knew every step to undo all those buckles before disrobing remained a mystery.

Groot hastily moved Gamora's jacket away and blocked everyone's view in case Rocket pooped after undressing, but that didn't happen this time. Instead, he staggered away as if dizzy and bumped into Quill's legs.

"Hey, Rocket, what's up?"

Rocket snarled at Quill, spat on the floor and, at last, the grabbing began. Anything he could wrap his fists around got squeezed. That meant Quill's boots, pant-legs, dangly jacket zipper and a tissue in his pocket.

"Can you snap him out of this?" Quill asked when Rocket attempted to climb him like a ladder.

Groot shook his head. Only time could do that. Post-ictal states were an oxygen-deprived brain and energy-drained body rebooting and getting back into sync with each other.

Rocket gave up on climbing Quill and stumbled along the wall, oblivious to bumping his head or nose on things as he went. He grabbed at seams on the floor, opened his fists and seemed annoyed that his hands came up empty. Gamora headed him off when he got too close to the airlock. He sniffed Drax's leg, lost interest and resumed grasping at floor seams until he found his wrench.

The unfolding scene edged towards becoming a spectacle. Rocket would be embarrassed if he had all his wits about him. Groot didn't like everyone watching him try to eat the tip off a wrench, so he decided to put a stop to it. He pried the wrench from Rocket's hands and gave it to Gamora along with her jacket since she was the closest.

Rocket climbed Groot's leg. Groot bent his forearm, giving him a platform to sit on. His shoulders had all kinds of vines and twigs. Perfect for redirecting a grabby, post-ictal friend who didn't realize he needed privacy.

"I am _**Groot**_."

This time, Drax understood him. He asked, "Are you sure you should be alone with him in this condition?"

Nodding, Groot swiped his data pad and padded into his brand new sensory corner.

The others began murmuring, no doubt assuming Groot couldn't hear them talk through the curtain.

"Did you guys know he had chips in his head?" Quill spoke first.

Drax cut in, "Rocket rarely speaks to us about his enhancements."

"I understand why," added Gamora, her voice tinged in bitterness. "Granted, I never needed any to control my brain activity."

A long pause.

"I have never witnessed a seizure before, except in diseased animals who needed to be killed on sight." Drax's voice muffled as if he was rubbing his nose or covering his face. "That was a poor assumption on my part."

Groot stopped focusing on what they said and sat down on the floor. He checked for any visible objects small enough to be swallowed. Upon finding none, he stretched his legs straight out and set Rocket on his lap.

Rocket's eyes stared upward and he suddenly froze, whiskers twitching. The bamboo wind chimes must have frightened him, so Groot turned air vent off. Rocket watched his hand operate the touch screen. His eyes squinted at it the way they always did when he conjured a plan. Maybe he realized was supposed to understand how the device worked, but couldn't access the data. He blinked up at Groot for an explanation, a total reversal of their usual modus operandi.

"I _am_ Groot." Groot said the noise makers were harmless.

He shifted to the corner, which let him lean back at an angle. Vines grew off his back like a wedge that comfortably propped him up.

Utter trust gleamed in Rocket's sleepy eyes. To everyone else, the quirks that made him Rocket went to sleep after a seizure. Not true- he became the creature he started as before his advanced intelligence emerged. This was the Rocket Groot first met. Before words. Before anger. Before guns. Before nightmares. Before _everything_.

And Groot could still communicate with him.

He rumbled wordlessly, lifting his hand. One errant leaf grew off his thumb. Rocket smiled with his eyes in a way he didn't do when he could talk and ate the leaf without hesitation. He pressed his brow against Groot's palm. Touch, a form of connection beyond speech or facial expressions.

Groot stroked Rocket's fur. Rocket contentedly sprawled against his chest, threw his arms around his neck to hang on and emitted his rattling raccoon purr. Groot bent his knees to prevent a fall and thrummed happily when Rocket laid his head on his shoulder.

"I am Groot." Groot promised that his heart was always a safe place to sleep.

Rocket chattered softly in reply. A sound that meant, _Yes, I know_.

His purring shrank as he slipped into a restless sleep from which he couldn't be roused. He snored audibly and his breathing stayed shallow. Sometimes he forgot to inhale altogether for up to thirty seconds unless Groot blew on his face or patted his back.

 _"...I've got a twenty-five percent chance of sudden death because of an implant."_

Groot exhaled heavily. His large eyes reflected the wall above him as he looked upward. He didn't know why those words chose now to surface in his mind. The chance seemed negligible, yet it stuck in his thoughts like a bad smell.

Rocket could, at any moment, breathe out and never breathe in again. All his laughter, intelligence and snide remarks gone forever in an instant. He worried his life and death wouldn't mean anything. An unnoticed flash in darkness, nothing more. He didn't realize his coming and eventual departure were footprints etched across Groot's heart.

Life was soil, and love became the roots that grew together underneath it. Roots didn't care what kind of seed they germinated from. They reached out and embraced. If one seed died, the others incorporated it into themselves.

"Walkie" Flora Colossi life-spans averaged over a thousand years. Longer than many of the younger non-Celestial species populating the cosmos. Back when Groot's homeworld still lived, the "No-Walkies" were repositories of knowledge. They had life-spans of at least two thousand years. The saplings they raised returned when old age slowed their hearts, connected to their progenitor via taproots and shared their lifetime. Then they journeyed on into Forever, leaving their memories behind. Those memories were passed along to the next generation of saplings.

When a No-Walkie began to die from old age, they connected with the oldest generation of saplings still alive, generated a seed and died after passing their lifetime of memories along. A new No-Walkie grew from that seed, and the offspring raised by the previous No-Walkie shared the many lifetimes of memories from its predecessor.

Flora Colossi viewed life as a circle. A circle of knowledge and stories that carried on through time.

Groot wasn't sure if any other Flora Colossi survived Ronan's attack on his planet. That didn't mean he couldn't continue his people's tradition the way Drax carried on his family traditions. He just had to do it differently. His data pad did a fine job of helping him communicate with people who couldn't understand his speech.

So, if any moment could be Rocket's last, the right thing to do was cherish every one of them from this point on. No more taking things for granted or parting ways angry at each other.

The worst pain of grief came from regretful what-ifs and should-haves. Nobody was ever _ready_ to face a loss, but minimizing regrets cushioned against the worst of its sting.

Movement by the curtain brought Groot out of his reverie. He respectfully covered Rocket's scarred back with his hands as Gamora leaned in, her green face lit softly by the dim lights. She offered the silvery sheet off Rocket's bunk.

"I couldn't find his spare clothes, so I brought something to cover him up. I know he is self-conscious about his body." _Like I am_. Gamora's unsaid words lingered.

What a kind gesture from her. A kindness born from painful understanding.

" _I_ am Groot," murmured Groot. He moved his elbows out of her way.

"You're welcome." Gamora worked around his arms to drape the blanket over Rocket. She smoothed the ruffled fur on his face. Her touch elicited no response, not even a whisker twitch.

"I expected his recovery sleep to look like _sleep_. This looks like a coma."

Groot nodded once, because it technically was a coma. He lowered a hand to his data pad.

 **Will you pleases brings me Rocket's backpacks?**

"Of course."

She moved as silently as possible when she retrieved the little armored backpack Rocket wore practically everywhere. It only took her a few seconds to return with it.

Groot noticed Gamora still had the tiny plait he braided into her hair yesterday afternoon, albeit without the white flowers he wove in. He batted it gently with a fingertip while taking the backpack she handed over. She crinkled her nose and made a soft growling noise- her way of being playful.

Rocket's breathing lapsed. Gamora looked alarmed. Groot patted Rocket's back, causing him to snuffle and resume like a pause never occurred.

To Gamora, he typed, **He will starts to breathes again by himself, but he wakes up with very bad headaches and dizzy. I makes him breathes more soon so he doesn't feels as bad. He will wakes up tomorrow and feels very tires and sores and has trouble remembers some things, but he will be backs to normal.**

"I'm glad to hear that," whispered Gamora. "I will leave you to tend to Rocket. Don't hesitate to call for help if you need it."

Groot nodded in understanding. "I am Groot."

Gamora glanced around at the lights, smiled faintly and eased the curtain over the door after departing.

"Rocket will be fine," she said to the others.

The atmosphere outside the curtain miraculously became less tense.

Groot straightened his legs, wrapped the shiny sheet around Rocket and laid him on his stomach in his lap. A much more comfortable position for both of them. Plus, he could feel Rocket's chest puff out and relax each time he breathed.

He twisted the shiny blue dome off Rocket's backpack. What looked like an innocent decoration was actually a medical multi-tool and quite possibly one of the greatest things Rocket ever scrapped together. The entire dome could deliver a powerful- albeit contained- electromagnetic pulse. If Rocket went into status epilepticus, all Groot had to do was turn the whole bottom of the dome until the blue part lit up purple, press the flat side on top of Rocket's head and squeeze to force-reboot his skull chips.

But an EMP wasn't necessary right now. Groot flipped the dome upside down to expose its silver-black bottom and pulled sideways on a tiny plastic handle. A thin, rectangular piece no larger than a stylus slid free. Now he held a small Quarnyx electromagnet and a sensor for checking Rocket's VP shunt mechanism. The end nearest his thumb had a metal nub. He turned the dome right side up and rubbed the metal nub next to the outer edge of Rocket's right ear. Tapping activated the magnet, but rubbing only brought the sensor online.

Colorful holographic readouts appeared above the dome. They contained information about Rocket's intracranial pressure, a percentage for how far open or shut his shunt valve was, the status of the both the ventricular and distal catheter tubes and whether or not the anti-siphon sensor was online. Sometimes, seizures caused a 'flood' of CSF that tricked the anti-siphon sensor into closing the valve to prevent over drainage. It usually corrected itself within minutes, but it always paid to double check. Groot liked to take care of any present issues before Rocket developed weakness in his legs, started projectile vomiting or suffered through skull-splitting headaches that only went away if he laid down.

The valve held steady at twenty-five percent. His ICP numbers were white. Nothing to worry about unless they turned bright neon blue for too low or bright neon purple for too high. Everything looked fine.

Groot slid the rectangular piece home, twisted the blue dome back onto Rocket's backpack and set it next to his bag of Xandarian apples.

Rocket's breathing deepened and evened out, a sign that his brain activity finished sorting itself out. Groot dug the stethoscope out of its brand new cubbyhole, wiggled the earpieces into place and tucked the microphone between the sheet and Rocket's chest. The thump of his small, yet mighty heart drowned out all silence and doubt.

In Groot's mind, no other person was as strong as Rocket. To go through the horrible things he endured and still have room for the tiniest shred of love... Groot doubted he could do the same in his place.

Waking up while cut open _once_ was bad enough. The rest of his traumas were external. Rocket stopped counting surgeries at thirty.

In fact, Rocket stole the data chip containing all his procedures and Groot's "therapy session" videos when they escaped Halfworld. There were over one-hundred files for Rocket. Groot only watched them once, and regretted it. Rocket never watched the videos; he kept the chip as a reminder of where he came from.

And now, all those memories thudded in the blood rushing through valves between atriums, ventricles, lungs and limbs. Groot rocked back and forth with Rocket's heartbeat until sleep found him, too.

.o

 _Four years ago_...

The eye drops lasted about sixteen hours for Rocket. Groot's slower metabolism let them last almost twenty-four. One application per morning on any planet with a twenty-four hour rotational cycle. Many seconds of stinging were a fair price to pay for several painless hours in full daylight.

Rocket taught Groot how to pick pockets, identify and disable basic security systems, break into buildings, and- probably the most fun- how to hotwire a variety of vehicles. He cheered when Groot hotwired a black Skyway hover car by himself for the first time. Too bad they barely fit together in the compact oval-shaped vehicle. Groot felt ridiculous with his rear end hanging out the back window, but getting somewhere other than that dirty alley made up for the indignity.

Besides, he got to see the hulking crane responsible for all the sunrise noise. He might have considered it the biggest unnatural object he'd ever seen if he hadn't laid eyes on a space station first.

Rocket drove recklessly, only heeding traffic laws when crossing amid other vehicles. Outside of that? He did barrel rolls, sped way faster than the posted speed limits and buzzed buildings.

"I am GROOT!" Groot laughed. He punched the button that turned on the backup cameras.

"Really? I didn't know your ass was hanging out the-" Rocket slapped the steering wheel. "AHAHA! I can see it on the rear cameras!"

Purple lights blinked on the dashboard and a broadcast came over the communications system. Whoever delivered the message spoke way too fast for Groot to keep up.

Fortunately, Rocket got it.

"Shit, someone reported this car stolen. We better bail."

They parked under a bridge. Rocket guffawed at the back window Groot broke in order to fit inside the vehicle. Groot was grateful to get out of such an unnatural position in the first place. Compact hover cars were so tall-people-unfriendly!

An ornament on the hood of the stolen hover car had Groot narrowing his eyes. It looked like a blue puzzle piece made of glass. The symbol instantly flooded him with memories of Halfworld.

No hesitation- he tore the offensive decoration off the vehicle, stuck it in his mouth and bit down. It shattered under the pressure of his teeth with a satisfying crunch and crackled audibly as he chewed it to dust. He leaned through a side window to spit the pulverized remains on the driver's seat.

 _That_ felt good.

Rocket was antsy to escape the scene of the crime.

"Are you done?" he asked.

Groot's foul mood instantly deflated into a bright smile. He set Rocket on his shoulders and they fled into the richest Xandarian city long before authorities found the stolen hover car.

Unbelievable noise slammed down on his brain like a hammer. He covered his ears, stopped beside an abstract glass sculpture and let his peripheral vision take everything in.

Chaos slowly transformed into understandable information. Groot took his hands off his ears and scanned the area now that it made sense to him. He peered at Rocket, seeking a prompt for what to do next.

"Oh yeah, _this_ is where the money is," said Rocket. He rubbed his hands together and grinned. "So many pockets to pick, so little time. Look at all these rich, inattentive jackasses. Where should we start? Pick one, Groot."

"I am Groot?" Groot pointed at a pale, richly-suited Xandarian with wavy white hair combed forward over an obviously balding head.

"Sure. A bad haircut like that is committing a crime against our eyeballs. The loser deserves to get mugged. Let's go."

Snickering, Groot set Rocket down and followed him into the sunlight.

The white-haired Xandarian never saw them coming.

.o

 _Present day_...

Silence roused Groot from deep sleep. He touched the stethoscope earpieces still stuck over his barely-noticeable ears.

Nothing...

No heartbeat.

No chest puffing against his legs.

No air stirring the fine hairs on his bark.

 _Nothing_...

Dread rose in him, making his stomach simultaneously itch on the inside and yawn open like an empty hole. He remained motionless, mentally preparing himself for the sight awaiting him. The image built up in his mind piece by piece. Rocket lying still, his mouth ajar and dilated eyes half open. Everybody looked like that after their last gasp, even people who died in their sleep.

Groot touched the very edge of the sheet in his lap. Nothing could prepare a person to see the dead body of a loved one. He tilted his head back, begged Forever for strength and opened his eyes. Dim light lit the bamboo wind chimes hanging from the ceiling. He swallowed the lump in his throat, blinked and lowered his head.

"Sorry, I dropped this," Rocket said, handing Groot the microphone. He'd climbed off Groot's lap sans the sheet. "Hope the noise didn't wake you- ack!"

Groot picked Rocket up for a hug and rubbed his face against the soft fur between his little pointy ears. The hole opening in his stomach slammed shut so fast he swore he heard a sonic boom. Holding back tears used more willpower than he ever thought imaginable. He rocked back and forth, channeling everything into the hug and movement.

"Groot!" Rocket's voice was muffled by Groot's chest, "Ease up. It's not like I died or anything."

Exactly.

"I am Groot," murmured Groot.

"Yeah, hi," Rocket quit squirming. "Uh, Groot? This hug is _really_ awkward."

Laughing, Groot placed Rocket on the floor and draped the sheet over his shoulders. Rocket looked indignant, but waved it off. He let the blanket fall off his right shoulder to chew a mat out of his fur.

"By the way, nice job with the seizure first aid."

Groot smiled at the compliment. He took the stethoscope earpieces off, attached them to the magnet on top of the microphone and set the device in its proper cubbyhole. Off-handedly, he noticed his data pad by Rocket's feet. Rocket was using it to review surveillance footage of his seizure. He snorted when Groot sat on his pee puddle.

"Now I know why I keep smelling piss. It's not me, it's you." The skin inside his ears turned darker pink. "Groot, you idiot."

Groot spread his hands and raised a brow ridge. What else was he supposed to do? Rocket shrugged and finally bit the tangle out of his shoulder fur. He spat it in his hand and wiped it on Groot's leg because doing gross things like that amused him. Groot left it there since he didn't mind one bit!

"I wanna shoot that fucking bartender," grumbled Rocket. "He put an artificial sweetener in the drink and covered it up with sour fruit so we wouldn't taste it. I thought it tasted off, but I blamed it on the carbonation. He stiffed us. That shitbag stiffed us. I paid full price, too!"

That explained the reason behind Rocket's seizure. They drank a _lot_ during their silly burping contest. Groot wanted to ruin that bartender's day for being a cheap dickhead. He put those feelings aside because Rocket's well-being trumped resentment about things he couldn't change.

" _ **I**_ am Groot?"

Rocket gave himself an all-over shake. "Hmph. What do you think? I feel like shit that got shit on by shit."

"I- _**am**_ Groot." Groot told him he looked like shit that got shit on by shit because he set himself up for that one!

"Oh, thanks for the vote of confidence, piss-butt."

Groot beamed because Rocket sounded like his smartass self again.

"Ugh." Rocket watched the seizure footage again. He clutched self-consciously at the blanket, which covered all but his head. "I don't want them tip-toeing around me like I'm a time bomb with a busted detonator."

At that, Groot crossed his arms and put on his best frown. Nobody here thought less of him for his violent meltdowns. Nobody here thought less of Quill if he had a debilitating asthma attack. Nobody here thought less of Drax if he temporarily forgot how to talk. Nobody here thought less of Gamora if she woke up sweating due to nightmares. Why would they suddenly think less of Rocket because he had a seizure? The logic didn't compute, especially since everyone had seen the ugliest sides of his mental illness and rallied to _help_.

"I **am** _ **Groot**_ **.** "

"Groot, people can handle it when they find out I'm a certified nutcase. They get stupider than shit when they find out I'm an _epileptic_ nutcase."

Rocket shifted under the blanket covering him like he wanted to hide in it.

"All of a sudden any twitch I have makes people jump and I get told not to do things because I might have a seizure. Or you've got somebody saying I'm possessed or _diseased_. Let's see, what else? Oh. I get tired of saying strobe lights don't trigger my seizures, or I don't need your diet advice, and, my personal non-favorite- telling people the scientist who didn't give half a shit about me modified the chips in my head to control the seizures because he didn't want to lose his prized test subject. It gets old fast."

Groot's frown deepened. He didn't do any of that. Quill, Gamora and Drax seemed quite understanding when he explained epilepsy to them.

To make his point, Groot fast-forwarded the surveillance video to Drax saying he regretted his assumption.

In response, Rocket only shrugged and turned away to lick-nibble his other shoulder.

"I...am Groot," said Groot.

"Yeah, you've got a point there. They're still gonna look at me funny for awhile. Guess there's no way to avoid it except to face it. But I don't want to right now. Ugh."

Rocket rubbed his eyes, yawned and stretched his arms up over his head. Mid-stretch, he flinched. Sore muscles were his biggest post-seizure annoyance, second only to the foggy thinking and fatigue. Once, he said the day after a seizure felt like the lovechild of a hangover and an intense high-impact exercise routine.

"I am Groot?" Groot changed the subject. He grunted and raised his brow ridges in a questioning manner.

"Hm? Let's see..." Rocket looked upward and counted things off on his fingers. Normally, he could recall information like that instantly. "I remember up to the anti-grav room and shooting paintballs at Dey. The rest is gone, fuzzy and out of order."

He realized where they were and smiled with a tired sigh. "You like it?"

Groot waved his hands happily at the walls, his way of telling Rocket he loved this little sensory corner.

Then he stuck a nubby chew ring in his mouth, laid back to make himself "shorter" than Rocket and grinned up at him from the floor. Walking his feet against the wall caused little starbursts to zoom through the fiber optic lights embedded in the padding. He hummed in delight at the beautiful colors.

"You're weird, Groot," Rocket said affectionately. His demeanor sobered. "I'm not good at emotional stuff like you are." He scooted closer to Groot's head. "But seeing you happy like this makes all the hell we went through to get here worth it."

Groot's eyes fell half-closed in contentment as he fixated on the wall lights and gnawed his chew ring. He hung onto every word being said despite his apparent inattention.

Rocket understood the need for quiet, so he leaned back against the wall. The pressure of his weight caused red spirals to briefly dance around him.

Light was all Groot wanted to see. He focused intently on that at the same time he briefly 'disconnected' from his body. Harmless dissociation, nothing more. His imagination transformed the speckles into the stars he and Rocket visited following their escape from Halfworld. They had so much fun together! Even the scary parts of their experiences made for great stories later.

Groot didn't flinch when Rocket casually scratched the back of his neck. He knew how to do it without causing pain.

"Hey, Groot," Rocket unobtrusively sought Groot's attention, "Been wonderin'- what's the best part of Freedom Day for you? You know, besides tearing up the city and swearing at random people."

Reconnecting with his body in order to move it took a few moments. Just enough time to properly process the meaning of the question. Groot put his chew ring away, sat up and plucked the best Xandarian apple from the bag in the corner. The finest ones were the darkest purple, crunched the loudest and tasted the sweetest.

This wasn't a mere apple to Groot. It symbolized his first taste of freedom, and he found it because of Rocket. Everything Rocket meant to him fit like a universe inside the crunchy sweetness. Words were far too small and useless at expressing this feeling.

Pure love flashed through him when he grew his right pinkie finger into a blade and cut the apple in half from top to bottom.

Groot leaned his forehead against Rocket's and looked deep into his eyes. The meaning behind this wouldn't be as potent if he didn't show his Spirit while he did it. He separated the apple halves and offered one to Rocket. Its neon green center stood out like a beacon next to his brown bark.

Rocket let the blanket fall off to accept the offering in both hands. Groot straightened and watched carefully for his answer to sink in.

When it did, the perpetual anger surrounding Rocket's heart broke open for a fraction of a second. Just long enough to wholly absorb the selfless love given to him and shine it back out again as a genuinely happy smile. His Spirit shone on his face without the taint of shadows, scars or doubts.

Now he knew his coming and going meant something. Now he understood that he wasn't a mere flash in blackness. Now he felt the full peace of _Forever_.

Groot's mind encapsulated that smile and the feeling behind it, and in an instant it imprinted itself deep in his memory.

Then Rocket bit into his apple slice with a hearty crunch. His face returned to neutral, but the light inside him remained as a glimmer in the corners of his eyes.

"Been thinking about that bird legend you told me about." He licked his lips. "Maybe we're singing right now."

Groot bit his own apple slice in half. He almost choked in shock at hearing that brought up.

"I am Groot?"

Rocket swallowed and crinkled his snout, "Don't read too much into it, you big, sappy idiot. I still think that story is stupid as hell."

They laughed and finished their apple halves.

"C'mon," said Rocket. "Let's get you showered. Don't want your ass stinkin' up the Quadrant when we dock."

Groot snickered and stood up. Now he could smell how bad he reeked. He shrugged his shoulders because it was worth it.

Rocket shut the data pad off and pulled the sheet around his body again. He inhaled deeply, gathering himself.

"Ready?"

Nodding, Groot pushed the curtain aside. They stepped out together.

.o

 _One month later_...

Groot wasn't someone who planned things. Plans were more Rocket's forte. But hearing Quill explain the meaning behind a commercial for Xandarian breath mints to Drax sparked inspiration.

In the ad, a mob boss accosted a bartender to keep quiet around the authorities by stuffing a mint into his mouth. The symbolism was the mint lozenge covered up the "crime" of halitosis.

So Groot typed himself a little reminder note listing all the steps to his plan. It contained a file of the commercial so he could watch it any time he wanted. Then he quietly bided his time until the _Milano_ got called back to Xandar. A debriefing with the Nova Corps presented the perfect opportunity to be devious.

The outdoor bar- named Pel's Place- was empty. Groot crept behind the bar, searching until he found the hidden panic sensor. Workers pressed their thumb against it to secretly call for authorities.

Rocket sat sleepily at the table they used last time. A nasty pain flare kept him up all night, and its lingering effects were evident in his tense posture and drooping ears. His worst flares drained his energy and rendered him nearly immobile. Groot carried him the whole way here and he would carry him the whole way back to the _Milano_ afterward. Right now, Rocket needed a hearty laugh. It wouldn't make the pain go away, but laughing felt good. Feeling _good_ in the midst of feeling bad was like finding an oasis in a desert.

Groot knelt behind the bar, spotted a little green square by the cup storage safe and tapped the metal nub of Rocket's Quarnyx magnet against the lower left-hand corner. Sparks flew. Something sizzled. The air briefly smelled like burnt metal as the internal components melted. No damage showed on the outside. Anyone who rubbed their thumb on the silent panic sensor wouldn't notice a problem until help didn't arrive.

And Groot didn't want any trouble beyond what he intended to cause.

Groot passed Rocket's magnet back to him. He gave his shoulders a sympathetic rub and returned to the bar where he left his data pad.

"This better be funny," muttered Rocket, yawning. The quietness let his voice carry a long way.

" _ **I**_ am Groot," Groot promised hilarity, but he wanted Rocket to stand back and let him handle this.

The dark sky turned milky. Street lamps and vehicular headlights clicked off. Traffic was minimal, just the slow trickle of vehicles and people who worked nights to keep the cities running.

Xandar's triple sunrise revealed itself on the tallest skyscrapers first. They sparkled like fiery beacons welcoming dawn.

Finally, the orange-haired bartender arrived as sunlight flooded between buildings. His side swept hairstyle might've thrown Groot off if the orange dye job wasn't so memorable. He needed to touch up his blond roots. Groot couldn't believe he tried to mimic that with vines during his adolescence.

He glanced downward, letting his peripheral vision assemble the man's features into recognizable information. The bartender wore a pastel blue tunic that looked even more ridiculous than the green one. On it, a silver nametag. _Subbob Ryt_.

"Asshole," muttered Rocket.

"Good morning, sir!" Subbob flashed a cheeky smile at Groot. He didn't notice Rocket at all. How unobservant. "Give me a few moments to get everything online and I'll be ready to serve you."

"I am Groot." Groot told him he looked like a chopped Sneeper carrot.

"Nice to meet you, Groot."

Of course the jackass didn't understand what got said to him. Groot grinned back and brought his data pad online. Anticipation knotted his stomach. He bounced his right leg, his entire body tightening like a coiling spring. Subbob took his time switching on heating elements, preparing an ice machine and plugging in the bar top touch screen menu. Every device he activated emitted its own unique click, hum or buzz.

"Thank you for your patience. What can I get for you this m-"

Groot pounced halfway across the bar, wrapped his right hand around Subbob's throat and lifted him off the ground. He intended to grab the man's collar, but having his throat allowed better control of the inevitable squirming. Two taps of his fingertip commanded his data pad to speak the message he typed before coming here. His narrowed eyes and sneer made up for the emotionless "standard" voice he adopted as an extension to his own.

 **Goods mornings. I am here to lodges a personals complaints, so listens very closes. If you stiffs me or my friends again, then I promises that I will finds out where you lives, comes into your houses and rips all of your internals organs outsides of your mouths instead of puts this insides it.**

Just like the mobster in the commercial, he stuffed something into Subbob's gaping mouth. Except, instead of a mint, it was Rocket's hairball. He pulled him nose to face without looking him in the eye and growled in the lowest register of his voice.

Subbob whimpered and squirmed. Memories of Rocket's seizure, a result of Subbob's neglectful act, instantly squashed the regrets Groot had about scaring him.

 **Does you understands what I tells you, or does I has to spells it letters by letters?**

Subbob's pale face went paler. The whites of his eyes were solar coronas around his fearfully dilated dark green irises.

"N-no. I get it. I... I-I'm sorry, man!" He retched on the hairball rather than try to spit it out. Strands of it stuck all over his teeth when he grimaced. "Don't hurt me!"

Groot typed this time, deliberately using words that were auto-completed after one or two characters. A sentence that once took minutes was complete in seconds.

 **I wants a refunds. All nineteen units. Gives now.**

"The drink was only ten-"

A shake from Groot cut him off.

 **I tips you nines. I wants that refunds too.**

"Oh! R-right. Please, let go of me and I'll- oof!"

Subbob hit the ground like a sack of Xandarian squash after Groot let him go. He got right on his feet again, gagging, spitting and desperately clawing at his tongue. A ruse he used to mask desperately swiping his thumb over the panic sensor. It might've worked if Groot didn't know that sensor existed.

Moments later, Subbob produced a clear receipt chip for the exact price of the smoothie and the tip. Groot accepted it and raised a finger to make the man wait while he typed on his data pad again.

 **Thanks you for cooperates. Has a nice days, shitbags.**

He smiled at Subbob- a genuinely sweet smile because he got what he wanted- and walked away with his data pad tucked under his arm.

To Groot's amusement, Rocket didn't look sleepy anymore even though his ears still drooped. He stood cooperatively still when Rocket scaled side and sat on the back of his neck with his legs dangling onto his chest. His favorite place to sit during pain flares.

"I _**am**_ Groot." Groot placed the receipt chip in Rocket's hands.

"There's hope for you yet." Rocket pocketed the chip. His voice shook from repressed laughter. "But what did you shove in his mouth?"

"I am Groot."

"Are you serious?" Rocket leaned around to look him in the eye, not caring that their gazes didn't meet. "Groot, are you fricken serious? Did you really?"

Groot rubbed his thumb right to left across his own mouth and smugly lifted his head like the mob boss in the commercial. Oh yeah, totally serious.

Rocket glanced at Subbob when he gagged again. His eyes crinkled into glittering slits. He slapped his hand down on his knee and cracked up so hard the sound echoed through the nearly-empty plaza. Groot grinned as he stepped into the summer sunshine.

Subbob's spitting noises punctuated Xandar waking up for a new day. Rocket's amusement faded when he yawned and put his chin down on top of Groot's head. Groot ensured he had his data pad tucked safely under his arm and grasped Rocket's feet. Just a safety precaution. Rocket's toes curled against his fingers, gripping them in return.

"Quill is gonna kill us."

Not telling Quill sounded like a perfect solution to that problem.

"I am Groot."

Rocket snickered. "I won't tell if you won't. Don't tell Drax, either. He'll blow it for sure."

Groot squinted in the morning brilliance without breaking his stride. No telling Drax or Quill. Probably not Gamora, either, because she would lecture them.

"Shit. Heh, heh...oh, fuck...heh!" Rocket's whole body shook when he burst into giggles. The kind of giggles where any reminder of the funny thing set him off all over again. Even worse, they were virulent! "I'm gonna laugh every time I dig out a mat, and it's gonna be your fault."

" **I** am Groot?" Groot chortled, anticipating the explosive result.

Rocket practically vibrated. "Ahahaha! Haha, ha! Damn it, Groot!"

That settled it. Neither could say 'hairball' without erupting in hilarity, and they were the only two people in the universe who knew why.

Groot directed his eyes downward when he approached the crosswalk. Morning rush hour had begun. Looking straight on at the organized chaos of traffic and pairing what he saw with its corresponding sound was too overwhelming. There were so many variables to assemble. Either he could watch or listen, but not both.

Rocket sensed his tension and took over navigating. He nudged Groot's head forward, prompting him to cross after the light changed. Then a backwards tug helped him stop on the other side.

A low groan escaped Groot's throat. Some punk's loud brassy sounding engine startled a good century off his life. He thumped his brow against a light pole to keep the encroaching grayness at bay. Small hands pulling on the back of his head lassoed his undivided attention.

"Okay, okay. Groot?" Rocket leaned over his shoulder and pointed. "Let's cut through the alley. It's quieter. Can you make it that far?"

Nodding, Groot doggedly put one foot in front of the other. He counted the steps to distract his mind. Eighty-six steps later, safety. Buildings did a good job at muffling traffic noise.

Gray filled half of Groot's visual field, and it wasn't coming from inside his own head. This looked so- yes! He gripped Rocket's feet tighter and broke into a jog. His mental image of familiarity overlaid what he actually saw. Something didn't match. He counted eight entrances and stopped, confused.

It took almost a minute to realize the restroom they holed up in wasn't there anymore. Actually, the whole bar was gone. In its place, a grocery store of some sort. A clean, well-maintained service entrance stood where the restroom used to be.

"I'll be damned," muttered Rocket. "Groot, lemme see your data pad."

He connected to the data net and searched back four years. The bar burned down the day they left the restroom behind and hotwired a hover car.

Groot's inner nostalgic winced at the loss. His inner pragmatist flapped its hands in joy. The building changed, but the shadow he and Rocket cast on its wall remained the same.

"Eh," Rocket scoffed, "it was a dump." He returned the data pad and twisted sideways to hock a loogie exactly in the center of the service entrance doorway.

Groot smiled, turned away from the building and resumed walking. He made his data pad say the dreaded word- _**hairball**_ \- and their uproarious guffaws echoed through the alleyway.

Shadows from the past stretched behind them. Sunbeams ahead promised a bright future. Both were perpetually intangible, so Groot listened to Rocket laugh and relished the freedom of _now_.

.o

" _Weightless in love- unraveling._  
 _For all that's to come,_  
 _and all that's ever been._  
 _We're back to the board_  
 _with every shade under the sun._  
 _Let's make it a good one_..."

-Imogen Heap, "Can't Take It In"


End file.
